We Were Strangers
by Lixnchains
Summary: When Harry experiments with an unknown incantation that he found in the Prince's book, his relationship with Malfoy intensifies, and the two boys discover that there really is only a fine line between love and hate. **This is an old story of mine that I have decided to edit and finish. It's male/male slash. Yes, there will be sex stuff (see M rating). Enjoy!**
1. The Awakening

The early-morning sun began to drift lazily in through the window as Harry lay sprawled on his bed, flipping casually through the Prince's potion book. His covers were untouched, and his robes were un-changed from the day before. This wasn't the first time that he had stayed awake through the long hours of the night.

In fact, his sleep had been fitful quite a lot lately, and he had taken to dozing off in an armchair by the fire and trudging to his bed at dawn so that Ron and the others wouldn't suspect he was having turbulent nights. He wasn't sure what it was that was keeping him awake. It certainly wasn't nightmares. He knew the feeling of nightmares quite distinctly. No…it was something else.

His brow crinkled as he tried to wrap his mind around the predicament. All he knew for sure was that he'd been feeling ill at ease more and more frequently. It seemed to him that the stars were suddenly shifting and his psyche was following suit. He and Ron thought of Divination as merely a laughable joke, but Harry felt now that he would give a lot to understand why he felt so restless...so anxious. Something huge and profound was coming his way…if only he could figure out what it was.

A few hours later, Harry heard the unmistakable sounds of Ron slowly waking from what must have been a deep and blissful sleep. Grunts and the heavy rustling of sheets and blankets indicated that the red-head was no longer in the peaceful world of dream-land. Harry grinned and threw his pillow at the moving mound.

"Oy!" Ron mumbled groggily. "What'd you do that for?"

"Your rustling around is worse than your snores," Harry said cheerfully. "And anyway, it's near breakfast. You'd better get a move on." Ron grumbled incoherently for a few seconds before slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position.

"What are you doing already dressed?" he asked Harry, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Oh, er, I've been up working on that Essay for Snape," Harry lied, fidgeting with the binder of the Prince's book.

"Bloody marvelous, that is," Ron complained. "Leave it to Snape to assign us a massive paper with exams only a few weeks away." Then, noticing Harry's book, he asked, "What are you doing with the Prince? Find any new mystery spells for us to try out on an unsuspecting Goyle?"

Harry glanced down at the book and suddenly remembered the incantation he had come across while skimming the section on truth potions.

"Yeah, actually I did. Look at this. Bottom right corner." Ron strolled over and bent down to squint at the yellow pages. In scrawling blank Ink, the Prince had written the words, Sentio Sensum. The two boys stared eagerly at the spell.

"So, do you think it's some kind of a truth charm?" Ron asked intently. "We could always test it out on our dear mate, the Death Eater to be. I mean maybe Malfoy would spill something about You Know Who, or, even so, it'd be pretty bloody funny even if he just admitted something juicy about Pansy Parkinson. You know they've been getting close." Harry grinned at the thought of this and pulled the book shut with a snap.

"Yea, it'd be pretty bloody funny," he reiterated. "I might give that a go later if I catch him lurking around in a dark corner. But, for now, I think there's a bit of toast with my name on it, so come on already and let's get down there before there's no food left at all." Ron smirked as he threw on a pair of wrinkled robes, and the two of them leisurely began to make their way down to the Great Hall.

-

"Hermione, will you please stop bothering me about homework!" Ron growled as the bushy haired girl attempted to force a planner-notebook into his hands. The three of them were strolling the grounds after breakfast to enjoy the last day of the weekend before a Monday that promised to be no fun at all with Snape first period.

"No, I will not, Ronald," she insisted with fierce determination. "What always happens when you don't do your homework? You ask to copy mine. I think it's high time you start doing your own assignments. And you too, Harry. That Potions essay isn't going to write itself."

"Actually, Harry already finished his," Ron interjected smugly. "So we don't need to copy yours. Harry will let me copy his, won't you Harry?"

"What? Oh, er, yeah, right. That's right," Harry mumbled, becoming intensely focused on the stray thread that dangled off of his sleeve. Hermione gave them one last severe glance before huffing away, and Harry was left to think about the fact that lies just always seemed to catch up to him, even the little ones.

The two boys walked in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sun and the feel of the grass on their ankles, until suddenly, over Ron's left shoulder, Harry caught a familiar glimpse of white-blonde hair disappearing behind a bush.

"_Malfoy…_" Harry thought tensely, feeling his stomach clench. He was about to spit out a crude comment about their mutual enemy to Ron, but, for some reason, the words stuck on the tip of his tongue. He remembered the mental war he had been fighting for almost the entirety of the previous night, and he realized that he wanted to confront Draco. And he wanted to do it alone.

Malfoy had been avoiding him for the past few weeks, and for some unknown reason, what should have been a blessing was a source of true irritation to Harry's spirit. Even though their frequent past correspondences had always been bitter and angry, there was something about them that lit a fire in Harry's chest, and he almost…counted on those interactions. Harry supposed that it was just a natural reaction. After all, every good guy needs a bad guy to remind him what he's fighting against, right? He frowned a little, unwilling to confront the holes in his own logic.

"Hey, Ron, you know what…I've just remembered that I have to go do that thing…you know, that thing I was telling you about, with, er, Flitwick, that bloody Charms thing I have to do. So…gotta go do that."

Ron looked at him with a baffled expression.

"You didn't mention anything to me, mate."

"Oh, well, must have slipped my mind then, but, you know, I have to go do it."

"What exactly is it?" But Harry was already walking briskly back toward the school.

"Yeah, just a thing, I'll see you later though," he called over his shoulder nervously. _"What the hell am I doing?"_ he thought, picking up his pace.

Rounding the corner, Harry stopped and threw a furtive glance over his shoulder. Ron had continued to meander up the path, apparently unsuspicious of Harry's flustered responses.

When Harry was sure that the tumble of red hair was sufficiently distanced from the bush where Malfoy was hiding, he emerged and backtracked to the place where he had seen the boy vanish. For a few seconds, he stood motionless in an awkward way, unsure of how to approach the situation now that he was here. He couldn't just come out and tell Malfoy that he missed having insults catapulted at him. Who would miss that?

"Don't stand there like an idiot, Potter," came a slow drawl from behind the bush. Harry started and instinctively reached for his wand. Malfoy chuckled. "Yes, I know it's you, Potter. It's called a shadow. I'd recognize that ridiculous mop of hair anywhere." Harry cleared his throat sharply, trying to regain his composure.

"I saw you sneak off into that bush Malfoy. I hope you're not planning any funny business."

Malfoy laughed casually.

"Potter, Potter, Potter. I am rather glad it's you. I can always get a laugh out of your hilarious accusations. Is sitting behind a bush criminal activity now? If so, then please…arrest me. I promise I won't fight back."

Harry didn't dignify that statement with a response, but stepped sideways and crouched slightly so that he could squeeze behind the bush. Malfoy was sprawled comfortably up against the leaves with his arms crossed against his chest.

"See? No loot back here, Potter. Just me and my criminal self."

There it was again. Something about Malfoy's detached attitude made Harry itch with frustration.

"What's the matter with you, Draco?" Harry spat before he realized quite what he was saying.

"Well…aside from being rudely interrupted in my leisure time, nothing."

"Why isn't your wand out? Why aren't you yelling out insults about my family…or my friends…or, or trying to curse me?" Harry's breathing was becoming shallower, constricted.

"Frankly, Potter, I just don't care," yawned Malfoy, closing his eyes half way to peer up at Harry in a bored manner.

Harry felt hot irritation bubbling to the surface of his skin, and he longed to make Malfoy angry. He longed to do something rash…something stupid even, to get a rise out of the seemingly indifferent boy sitting in front of him. He needed to believe that he could still provoke some kind of a reaction in Draco. Something strange was going on, and Harry desperately wanted to find out the truth.

Before he could fully comprehend what he was doing, Harry yanked his wand from beneath his robes, pointed it at Malfoy's chest, and almost whispered the words, "Sentio Sensum."

The air seemed to vibrate slightly for a few seconds, and then... all was still.

Harry had never really planned to use the spell on Malfoy. From personal experience, he understood that unknown incantations were dangerous. But Malfoy's disinterest had been grating on his nerves to such an extent for the past few weeks that he was desperate to know what was really going on.

In appearance, Malfoy remained seemingly unchanged. He had cowered back slightly when Harry had forcefully drawn his wand, but other than that, the only difference was a confused expression that had replaced the complacent one.

"Harry…you…cursed me," He said quietly, a horrible realization spreading across his features. There was a moment of silence in which Malfoy's expression became more and more agitated. "You cursed me! What did you do to me? Harry, what did you do?" His voice was taking on a panicked tone now, and he jumped to his feet, wild fear in his eyes. Harry stumbled backwards, feeling his breath catch in his throat. What _had_ he done?

"No…I swear….not a curse…I was just trying-"

"Just trying what? What did you do?" His voice was frantic now, and his face was only inches from Harry's.

"What? No…I don't understand. Draco…what's going on? I'll take you to the Hospital Wing. I don't know what I did to you. I'm sorry. Calm down…"

Malfoy looked at Harry, his breath coming in short, distracted gasps.

For a few seconds that seemed to last an eternity, neither of them spoke. They simply looked at each other in wild confusion. Harry had the feeling that if he could remain absolutely still, he would be able to postpone the moment when he would have to think about the fact that, once again, he had experimented with unknown magic on Draco Malfoy.

Then, suddenly, his reverie was shattered when, in one quick movement, Malfoy closed the space between them and put his lips firmly onto Harry's.

Harry stood completely frozen, unable to mentally process the inexplicable event that was taking place. He had a half-formed thought that this must be some bizarre dream that he would wake up from any moment, but right then, Malfoy seemed to come to his senses, and he pulled violently away from Harry's mouth, leaving behind a burning heat that convinced Harry that this was, in fact, reality.

Harry tried to speak, but he found that words would not come, and he simply blinked in utter bewilderment.

Malfoy was slowly backing away now, his expression changing so rapidly that Harry got the impression of an old silent film, the ones where each character's features are overly dramatized to the point of absurdity.

"Draco…" he ventured carefully, "you, y-you…" His mind was a complete blank.

Malfoy took a few more steps back and ducked down to get to the other side of the bush. Harry thought that he was going to walk away, but Malfoy crouched so that his face was visible to Harry.

Pain and anger dripped from his features.

"You bastard," he whispered quietly, his voice full of venom.

"You…you make me sick." Then he jumped up and disappeared, and Harry listened to the dull tread of his footsteps, the footsteps of the boy who had just kissed him…his enemy…as he sprinted away as fast as his legs could take him.


	2. There's Only A Fine Line

"Harry, you look as if you haven't slept in a week!" Hermione scolded gently, eyeing him over the top of the Daily Prophet.

_"What a true statement,"_ Harry thought bitterly, pressing his palm against his scar in an attempt to iron away an exhaustion-induced headache. The past few days had been a form of mental torture for him, and the only relief seemed to be unconsciousness, which came in brief, unmerciful fragments.

"Yeah, it's been…exams," he said out loud, giving Hermione a half-smile in reassurance. "I've been all night studying." She was still peering at him curiously.

"Since when do you study for exams?" she pressed. "What happened to copying my notes the night before?" Harry shrugged in what he hoped was a disinterested way and prayed that Hermione would drop the subject. This wasn't something he could confide in her with. At the very least, he needed to understand it first.

Harry could still feel her eyes on him, and he shifted uncomfortably, aware of the fact that she could almost definitely see the lies etched across his face. 

Hermione let the paper slowly slide down until it rested flatly on the table. "Something happened with Malfoy, didn't it?" she asked sharply, scrutinizing him with squinted eyes.

Once again, her omniscient mind left Harry dumb-struck, and he gaped at her, hurriedly trying to mentally construct a feasible story that would satisfy her.

"Hermione…no, er, I don't know…h-how do you know?" he stuttered, feeling as though he could slap himself for being so transparent.

"Any idiot would know, Harry," Hermione continued smoothly. "Don't you think that after six years of being your friend I would have learned to interpret a few of your reactions?" Harry merely nodded in a slight and non-committal way, praying that he could provide just enough information to Hermione without giving away something that would lead her to the whole truth.

"I know that moody, vacant look that you get in your eyes after the two of you have had a confrontation," she was saying. "What did you fight about this time?" Harry dropped his head into his hands, feeling that if he could avert his eyes, it would be easier for him to end the conversation as quickly as possible. 

"Look…I can't talk about this right now, Hermione," he finally said truthfully. "I know that sounds strange, but…" he was already pulling himself up from the table, dropping his uneaten toast back onto his plate.

"Harry…what's going on?" Hermione asked quietly. There was concern in her eyes, and she started to half-rise from her chair as if to follow him.

"I have to go," Harry mumbled, grabbing his bag and slipping it over his left shoulder. "I'm sorry…I am…I'll talk to you later, okay?" Without glancing back, he started quickly for the door, and once outside, he turned toward the hallway that led down to the dungeons. He realized now that avoidance was not going to be an option with Malfoy. He needed to find the boy, and he needed to understand what had happened the other day. It was driving him insane.

A thick breeze drifted in from the window that Harry was leaning against, and he shivered slightly, although not merely from the cold. He was at the entrance to the Dungeons, prepared to wait all day if necessary. He knew that Draco would have to leave or return at some point, and he would certainly be there when it happened. His mind drifted back to what had occurred behind the bush only a few days ago, and he shuddered at the thought of how his confrontation with Malfoy would go.

He could have just let the situation be. He could have walked away, shocked and appalled, maybe, but prepared to erase the whole thing from his memory if Malfoy would do the same. If only it could have been that simple. But, it wasn't. Something in the way that Harry kept replaying the kiss in his mind told him that he wasn't supposed to ignore it, and, if anything, he needed to check and see that Malfoy wasn't experiencing any residual effects from the Prince's spell. Harry was still mulling things over when Draco's shadow fell slowly across the floor in front of him.

"Lurking doesn't suit you, Potter," the boy said with a sneer. "Move. You're blocking my way." Harry exhaled sharply in frustration. He should have known that Malfoy would handle the situation with stubborn arrogance.

"Not until we talk about the other day!" Harry insisted, moving so that his body was even more firmly between Draco and the entrance to the dorm. You can't pretend that it didn't happen. You're under some sort of a…well, you're not yourself, and we need to talk about it!" Malfoy's smirk faded to an expression of grim dislike, and he eyed Harry with icy anger, his fingers drifting obviously toward the place in his robe where he hid his wand.

"Move," he hissed quietly.

"What are you going to do, curse me back?" Harry spat, feeling his temper rising to a point almost beyond control. "Are you going to curse me? Is that your big plan, Malfoy? Because, go on! Curse me! CURSE ME!" He reached forward and grabbed Malfoy's hand, yanking it toward his own face. "There! I even helped you out! Here's my face! HIT ME! Yell at me. Insult me! I don't care! Just do something so that I know that you know I still exist!"

The words were spilling carelessly out of his mouth, and his chest was rapidly rising and falling with emotion. Everything that had been pent up inside of him was exploding out, and, in a way, it was almost freeing.

He felt the fisted hand relax slightly in his own, and he waited, desperately trying to read Malfoy's face for a reaction. The two were still frozen in an absurd pose of Harry pulling Malfoy's hand toward his face, and neither seemed to want to be the first to break the position. Finally, Malfoy shifted a little, and Harry dropped his hand as if it were burning hot.

"You disgust me…" Draco began, and Harry opened his mouth in angry retort. "But, BUT," Malfoy continued, cutting Harry off, "I…do…I do know that you exist…obviously…I mean, obviously I do." This time it was Harry's turn to shift awkwardly, but Malfoy kept talking. "As for that…um, clever stunt you pulled, I don't know what you were trying to do, and I really don't care." A smirk had crept back into his expression. "And as for what you _did_ do, well, my plan is to wait until the effects wear off and to avoid you in the meantime. Obviously, the spell backfired somehow." Harry had a fleeting desire to grab Malfoy's hand again. He felt any cooperation slipping away.

"I still don't know what it is that I even did," Harry mentioned. "I mean, understandably, Draco…I'm a little confused…"

"And you think I'm not?" asked Malfoy sharply, and then, in a more subdued tone, "don't waste your time worrying about it. Just leave me alone, okay?" His gaze was hardening again, and Harry found that all he could do was nod. His throat had gone dry. Malfoy seemed satisfied with this response, and he turned to enter the dungeon, but Harry slid sideways to block his way again.

"Wait…" he said suddenly. "Just…wait." Malfoy didn't say anything, but he didn't turn away. Harry leaned forward, pausing when he was a few inches from Malfoy's face and expecting be shoved away. But when Malfoy made no such movement, Harry brought a hand up to rest softly on Draco's cheek. He couldn't comprehend what he was doing, so he didn't try to. All he knew was that something strange was taking hold of him, and suddenly his anger didn't feel quite like anger anymore. 

Harry lifted his other hand to rest on Malfoy's shoulder, feeling a bit like he felt in dreams, but right at that moment, a distant gong from the giant school bell indicated that it was 1:00, and the boys stepped urgently away from each other, breaking from their reverie.

There was a moment of stunned silence in which Malfoy and Harry kept their gaze tightly locked, and then Malfoy stepped forward and brushed his mouth against Harry's ear. "I hate you," he whispered tenderly. "Stay away from me." Harry repeated the gesture, and let his mouth linger for a moment at Malfoy's ear before whispering back, "I hate you too."


	3. The Naked Truth

The flames crackled happily, whispering to Harry as he sat leisurely in an arm-chair by the fire. Angry rain fell against the windows, and he smiled to himself, glad to be inside the protective walls of the school. The Prince's book lay closed in his lap, and he stroked the cover lightly, his mind drifting back and forth from the present moment to the previous afternoon, when everything he had always known had suddenly come into question.

Hermione sat across the room, feverishly writing and throwing glances toward Harry, who pretended not to notice. They were both mutually ignoring the conversation that had taken place that morning, and Harry was grateful that she didn't try to press the subject.

"You could do something, you know," she remarked suddenly, raising her eyes from her work. "I mean instead of just doing absolutely nothing." Harry grinned.

"I am doing something. I'm thinking," he argued, shifting lazily in his chair. "And, actually, now that you've come up for some air from studying, I've been meaning to ask you something." Hermione held up her hand, indicating that he should wait a minute, and Harry watched as she quickly put a few finishing touches onto the paper in front of her.

"Go ahead," she sighed patiently, turning to face him. "But…just keep in mind the fact that you have two papers to do tonight, and, as far as I know, you haven't even started." With no response from Harry's end of the room, she decided that it was a subject not worth arguing over and shrugged her shoulders in defeat. "That's all I'll say. What do you want to know?"

Harry stared into the fire, unsure of how to phrase the question. The last thing he wanted to do was to arouse some sort of suspicion in Hermione, but she was the only one he knew who might have the information he needed stored in her memory banks. Finally, deciding on something close to the truth, he asked, "You know a fair amount of Latin, don't you?" She opened her mouth in reply, but Harry continued, avoiding her eyes and pretending to be intensely focused on the book in his lap. "I…well…I came across this term, actually it was while I was reading…and I don't know what it means." He casually shrugged, as though he had only brought it up for conversational purposes. "It looked as though it might be in Latin. Sentio Sensum. Ever heard of it?"

The last few words had come out of his mouth nervously and quickly, and he waited breathlessly as Hermione tapped her foot and thought about the question. She had an irritating habit of never directly responding when Harry desperately needed her to. A few seconds drifted by tediously, and Harry shifted impatiently.

"Well? Anything?" he asked, a little more forcibly than he had intended, and Hermione glanced at him in annoyance.

"Harry! Give it a minute!" she chided. "I'm fairly certain that I've read the term before, but there's a possibility that I could be mistaking it with something else. Just let me look it up quickly, and…oh honestly, Harry, it won't take that long!" she said upon seeing Harry's anxious expression. "And you don't seem like you're in a hurry about anything else tonight." Harry rolled his eyes skyward.

"Alright," he agreed, pulling himself stiffly from the chair and walking over to her table.

He waited, pacing restlessly as she flipped through the dusty pages of an ancient Latin book that she had extracted from her bag, and finally, on page 304, she smiled in satisfaction.

"Just what I thought," she said smugly, indicating a worn description at the top of the page, and Harry nearly tripped over her outstretched leg to bend over and read the tiny type.

_"Sentio,"_ the book stated, _"Of or having to do with truth and understanding."_ Harry squinted his eyes in puzzlement, scanning for the completion of the phrase, and found it a few lines down. _"Sentio Sensum. The truth between two individuals. Revealed truth. Of the senses."_ Harry exhaled through his teeth, staring at the page in bemusement.

_"The truth between two individuals,"_ he thought, the words tossing and turning in his mind. _"The truth…"  
_  
In one swift moment, he made the connection. This was the reason for the incantation's location in the Prince's book. This was the reason for…this was the reason for…he suddenly felt incredibly dizzy. Surely not…It couldn't be…and yet…the words were right in front of him.

He remembered that Hermione was sitting next to him, and he smiled weakly, patting the page vaguely with his hand as though it were some sort of a lovable pet.

"Well…t-there we have it," he said in a falsely cheery tone. "I knew it was something like that. Truth. Yes, er, it did…sound like that. Like…like it would have that definition. Truth. Funny word, really…What is truth, anyway? Funny word…really…" He was rambling, and he mentally forced his mouth shut, praying that he could pull himself together. Hermione had the same look in her eyes that had been there that morning.

"You, um, knew that it was…'something like that?'" she questioned, her tone full of doubt. "Because I actually got the impression that the Bloody Baron jumped up from the page and bit you."

Harry shrugged again, not trusting himself to open his mouth and spew out another string of nonsense words. Hermione started to question him again, but he could barely listen, let alone comprehend, what she was saying. If the Prince had known his Latin…and Harry was sure that he must have…than Malfoy hadn't been cursed at all. Harry had merely…revealed something that was already there…uncovered something that had been lying dormant in Draco for who knows how long.

_"Or perhaps dormant isn't the right word,"_ thought Harry, nodding at Hermione to give an illusion of attentiveness. In a rare moment of panic, Malfoy had let slip the fact that Harry had, in fact, been on his mind lately, so maybe "suppressed" was a more accurate description. _"In any case,"_ he thought nervously, _"something is happening that…well…that shouldn't be happening between the two of us."_

As Hermione continued to express her concerns, Harry gazed blankly at her, speculating about the possible depth and extent of Malfoy's feelings and wondering also about the possible depth and extent of his own…

-

The Potions room was filled with the usual intoxicating scents of herbs and old spices, and Harry entered with Ron, heading toward his usual seat in the back. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see if Malfoy was seated yet, and he located the boy in the far right corner, determinedly staring straight ahead and avoiding Harry's eyes. He exuded arrogance, and there was still a malicious air about him, although Harry could detect a hint of something else, something that Malfoy was obviously trying to cover up.

Professor Slughorn strolled jovially through the door and stood smiling at his students for a moment before lowering himself heavily into the large arm-chair in front of the blackboard.

"Small class today, aren't we?" he huffed cheerfully, adjusting the neck of his robes slightly in the early-summer heat.

"Apparation practice, Sir," Ron offered in explanation. "We've all got Quidditch practice this afternoon, and the rest of them won't be home for hours." Slughorn nodded.

"Well, then, no sense in being spread out all the way across the room, hmm? Draco m'boy, don't sulk in the shadows over there. Here, come take the empty seat next to Harry."

Harry felt his heart skip a beat, and, almost instinctively, his palms began to sweat. He awkwardly brushed an invisible bit of dirt from his desk and raised his eyes to see Malfoy staring at him. There was a short minute of silence in which Slughorn blinked at the two of them expectantly.

"I'm fine over here…Sir," Malfoy said quietly, making no movement to pick up his things.

"Don't be silly!" Slughorn exclaimed heartily. "Come on, now. We don't have all day."

Harry suddenly felt the strangest sensation of everything around him shrinking, and it seemed that he and Malfoy were the only two who really existed, staring at each other, watching each other.

Ron shoved Harry beneath the desk. "Snap out of it," he mumbled under his breath. "What's the matter with you?" Harry pulled his eyes from Malfoy and cleared his throat loudly, adjusting his glasses in embarrassment. Why did it seem that lately, whenever his thoughts turned to Draco, all of his common sense seemed inevitably to slip away?

Malfoy glanced once more at Slughorn, but when the teacher nodded his head toward the other end of the room, he scowled and yanked his bag up from the floor.

Harry tried to take a deep breath as Malfoy slammed himself angrily into his new seat, but he kept remembering the definition that he had read the night before, and that caused his heart to start racing again. Slughorn had risen to write a complex procedure on the board, and Harry pretended to glance at the wall-clock so that he could steal a look at Malfoy. The boy wore an irritated frown on his face and was leaning away from Harry as far as was humanly possible given the close proximity of the desks. Harry felt his stomach clench, and he wondered how it made sense to feel anger, tenderness, disgust, and intrigue all at the same time.

Taking a piece of parchment from his bag, he scribbled the words, "Draco, I think we should talk. I found out some new information that you have the right to know." He pushed it obviously toward the side of his desk, hoping that Malfoy would pick up on the hint, but the other boy's eyes were glazed over, and Harry doubted that he saw anything at all. He didn't know how to attract Malfoy's attention without the people on either side of them noticing as well, so he slipped his hand discreetly under the desk and very lightly touched the boy's leg.

Malfoy started violently and shoved Harry's hand away, giving him a murderous glare, and Ron looked curiously at them. Harry threw his friend a look that said, _"Don't worry about it. I'll explain later."_

"Just read the damn note," he whispered fiercely to Malfoy, shoving the slip of parchment onto his desk. "I don't like the seating arrangements either, so grow up about it!" Malfoy lowered his eyes to the paper and read the words for what seemed to Harry like an incredibly long time before picking up his quill to write back. He waited until Slughorn had turned to the board again before pushing the note back towards Harry. Harry leaned over so that he could read the parchment privately, away from Ron's wandering eyes, and was surprised to find that Malfoy had only written three words.

"Midnight. Trophy Room." He glanced up, and the two boys locked eyes again, but this time it was only for a moment. Harry nodded curtly, and Malfoy turned away again to stare sharply in the opposite direction. _"So, we've arranged a meeting,"_ thought Harry, absent mindedly copying down what was on the board and contemplating how unpleasant it would be to have to tell Malfoy what he had discovered. There would simply be no easy way to go about it…

Ron leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear. "What's going on?" he asked. Harry opened his mouth and then shut it again, deciding to just roll his eyes, which he knew was a gesture that Ron would interpret as, _"Malfoy's being an ass again, of course."_ Ron grinned appreciably and rolled his eyes back, perfectly satisfied with Harry's response. After all, why shouldn't he be fighting with Malfoy? _"We hate each other,"_ Harry thought. _"We…hate each other."_

-

Harry got to the Trophy Room at twenty minutes to midnight so that he could give himself some time to think and to gather his composure. He had blatantly lied to Ron and Hermione and told them that he needed to be alone for a while, and they had believed him whole-heartedly, but he felt a guilty pang in his stomach for being so dishonest with his two best friends.

_"I need to do this,"_ Harry thought, reassuring himself. _"They wouldn't understand."_ The Trophy Room was completely dark except for a few ghostly rays of moon light drifting in through the windows, and Harry hoped that Malfoy would show up and not leave him here, waiting. It didn't strike Harry currently as the friendliest of environments.

He heard footsteps in the hall outside and quickly moved into the shadows, worrying that a teacher might be doing inspections. But when the heavy doors creaked open, Harry detected a boy's silhouette, and in the next moment, the figure stepped forward in front of a window, his features suddenly bathed in moonlight.

"Draco, over here," Harry whispered loudly, and the boy looked up and saw Harry gesturing from the other side of the room. Harry listened as Malfoy's footsteps grew closer, until the two of them were standing face to face.

"I didn't think you'd be here," Malfoy admitted, glancing around the room.

"Are you kidding?" Harry asked in surprise. "Which one of us is the reliable one here? I thought _you_ wouldn't show." They were both silent for a minute, looking at each other and at the trophies, not sure where to start or what to do.

Finally, Harry motioned that they should sit down, and they each took opposite sides of a giant window sill. Harry listened to the quiet sounds of the night, wanting to delay their conversation for as long as possible, and Malfoy shifted tensely.

"Look…" Harry began after a few seconds. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just-" His words were cut short by the sound of another pair of footsteps nearing the room, and the boys scrambled to their feet, looking desperately for somewhere to hide.

"The equipment closet!" Malfoy whispered, and they sprinted across the room.

Harry pulled on the door and said a silent prayer of thanks that it was unlocked. He had broken too many rules this term to get caught out of bed at such a late hour, and he was pretty sure that Draco's record wasn't perfect either. The two of them squeezed into the closet and shut the door just as they heard Filch come wheezing into the room. They breathed as silently as they could and listened to the old man scuffle around looking for students or anything else out of the ordinary.

The little space was cramped, and Harry became aware of the fact that his leg was pressed up against Malfoy's. Strangely enough, Malfoy seemed to become aware of this fact in the exact same moment, because they both tried to move simultaneously and ended up falling awkwardly into a position that was much worse than the previous one.

Filch must have heard the noise, because the footsteps stopped, and the two of them froze, Malfoy lying on top of Harry and Harry with his hand on Malfoy's shoulder, as he had been trying to steady himself. After a few terrifying and eternally long seconds, Filch must have decided to disregard the noise, because the footsteps started up again and grew more and more distant.

"We need to wait a few minutes," Harry whispered, taking his hand from Draco's shoulder and dropping it uncomfortably to his side. His glasses had been knocked slightly and were now digging painfully into his face, but in his position he couldn't reach up to adjust them.

"Can you fix my glasses?" he whispered to Malfoy, wondering if he would receive a sneering insult in response. "I can't…reach…please?" Malfoy stared at him briefly, and then, to Harry's surprise, reached down and slowly slipped Harry's glasses off of his eyes. Harry didn't know if he should be angry, if this was some form of a trick, but Malfoy's face actually looked sincere, which was extremely rare, and Harry just stared at him, equally confused and curious.

Malfoy leaned forward again, as if to set the glasses down, but when his face was over Harry's, he stopped, a questioning expression on his face. Harry wondered fleetingly if Draco was questioning him or questioning himself, but in the next moment all thoughts were gone from his mind as he felt their lips connect. It was the lightest possible connection, made with utmost tenderness, and it was so different from anything that Harry would have expected from the Malfoy he thought he knew. Where was the violent, arrogant boy who had hated him for the past six years?

Harry sighed slightly, and this seemed to be the only encouragement that Draco needed. He pressed himself more firmly onto Harry's mouth, and Harry parted his lips to give him access.

For a moment, Harry tried to worry about what was happening, but none of it made any sense to him, and his higher-brain functioning was rapidly fading away. With a failed last ditch attempt, he surrendered to the feelings, deciding that he would think it through thoroughly later. He cautiously raised his hands to Malfoy's shoulders again and moved gently down his back, feeling the smooth texture of his shirt. When he reached the hem, he hesitated for a second and then slipped underneath the fabric, Malfoy's bare skin beneath his fingers.

The other boy shivered and brought his hands to Harry's neck, which he held and softly stroked. They were kissing deeply now, and Harry could feel his body temperature rising rapidly and his heart beating furiously against his chest.

Something sharp was pressing against his spine, and he moved to relieve the pressure. Malfoy slowly lifted his head and stared at Harry, his breathing heavy.

"No…I didn't…you don't have to stop…" Harry said breathlessly. "I was just…my back…" Malfoy slowly raised himself to a sitting position, still holding Harry's gaze.

"We need to stop anyway. It's getting late," he said shortly, straightening his shirt and reaching for the closet door. Harry exhaled loudly and made no effort to rise. "Come on. Get up," Malfoy said, pulling himself out into the room again. "We still need to talk." Harry groaned inwardly. He had temporarily and blissfully forgotten about the reason they had agreed to meet in the first place.

A few minutes later, they were both outside, seated on the same window sill that they had left so abruptly before, although this time they were much closer.

The atmosphere was beginning to change perceptibly, and they both looked awkwardly at each other, the rush of spontaneity that they had experienced in the equipment closet fading away. Harry wished that it could be different, but he felt the familiar tension rising between them. Malfoy turned his head away and gazed out the window. "I'm not gay," he said almost forcefully. "I don't know what happened in there, okay? I've never done that before. I've never kissed…I've never done that before." Harry nodded, pressing his hand against his scar again.

"I'm not gay either," he mumbled. "I don't know what…I don't know…" They both stared in opposite directions for what seemed like a long time. Finally, Harry spoke, and his voice had lost some of its tenderness and regained some of the sharpness that had always been present in past conversations with Malfoy.

"Look, I might as well get this over with. There's…well, there's no point in trying to beat around the bush. The point is…the point is that I looked up the incantation, and, Draco, it means-" Malfoy had held up his hand indicating that Harry should stop talking.

"Just…stop," he said, slowly bringing his eyes around to Harry again. "I…I know what it means, okay?" Seeing Harry's confused expression, he continued. "I researched it about an hour after our first…confrontation…and, frankly, I'm surprised that you waited so long." Harry stared at him in shock. He had known all along? They both sat perfectly still, just two shadows in a dark room, and Harry wondered how accurate their sources had been.

"What did you…I mean, what did you, read, exactly?" he asked nervously, feeling as though he already knew the answer. Malfoy leaned in so that once again their faces were merely inches apart and whispered so softly that Harry could barely understand, "It's just the naked truth, isn't it?"


	4. Clear and Cold

The Great Hall rang with the excited chatter that always accompanied a Quidditch match, and each student was decked in either the fiery colors of Gryffindor or the serpentine hues of Slytherin. It was the final match of the year, and inter-house tensions were running high as Harry entered with Ron and Hermione to grab some breakfast before the game began. He rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to rid himself of the effects the previous late night had had on him, and glanced up and down the Gryffindor table for free spots.

"Let's just take these ones here," Ron mumbled, his face paler than chalk. "I don't think I'll manage to keep anything down anyways, so you two go ahead…I'll just…wait here." He slumped onto the bench and stared blankly ahead, looking rather dejected, and Harry and Hermione exchanged knowing glances.

"Look…Ron, you're going to be fine," Hermione coaxed gently, reaching out to put her mug of hot tea in front of him. "Drink some of this. It'll help you feel better." Ron glanced at the tea for a moment, apparently very tempted, but after a glance at Hermione's soothing expression (and a very quick, very subtle smile that told Harry he loved being crooned over despite his outward reaction) turned his head away defiantly. Hermione shrugged hopelessly. "You try," she mouthed silently.

"You're a brilliant Keeper, Ron," Harry said brightly, leaning forward so that Ron was forced to look at him. "You really are. You'll do fine. You just need to ha—you just need to…" At that moment, Harry had happened to look up as Draco Malfoy came striding in through the great doors, accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle and wearing a haughty expression of mingled dislike and disdain that seemed intensified rather than subdued.

"He just needs to what, Harry?" Hermione asked pointedly, glaring at him and indicating Ron's expectant expression.

"Oh…right…" Harry continued quietly, "He just needs to…" The blonde haired boy had gestured to his friends, and the group had made a detour towards Harry's table.

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione snapped, catching site of Harry's cause for distraction. "Can't he leave you alone for two seconds? Why does he always have to start something?"

"Because he's Malfoy," Ron muttered wearily. "He's been a git for so long that it's habit now. Why McGonagall didn't let him stay a ferret is beyond me. It improved his character loads."

Hermione gave a hesitant smile, but Harry felt his chest constrict in an unpleasant way. He had absolutely no idea what kind of confrontation to expect from Malfoy after their last meeting, and he had no idea how he would react to any conversation exchanged between them.

Malfoy strolled up to the table imperiously, his gray eyes fixed on Harry's.

"Hey Potty, how's Weasel King feeling today?" he drawled with an all-too-familiar sneer. "I hope he's hungry, because he's about to get a few bludgers in the mouth." Crabbe and Goyle guffawed loudly. "And what about you, Scar-face? I'll do you a favor and give you another one since you seem to love the one you have so much."

Harry could feel his face growing hot, and his hands began to shake underneath the table. _"So this is the way it's going to be?"_ he thought tensely, looking into Malfoy's eyes, which seemed closed and hardened, as though something was being caged beneath them. Harry slowly stood up, glaring at Draco fiercely, and the other boy raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and rounded the end of the table so that the two of them were face to face.

"Leave it, Harry," Hermione whispered urgently, but Harry could feel hot anger running through his veins.

"You'd better shut your mouth before I do it for you, Malfoy," he spat, reaching instinctively towards his wand.

"What are you going to do? Go cry to Dumbledore?" Draco sneered, also reaching for his wand.

"What are you going to do? Go cry to Daddy?" Harry retorted, taking another step forward. Hermione jumped up from the table and grabbed Harry's arm just as his fingers were about to close over his wand.

"I said leave it, Harry," she said forcefully, glaring at Malfoy in disgust. "It's not worth it."

Harry stared tensely at Draco for a few long seconds before relaxing his arm in Hermione's grip and taking a step back. Malfoy laughed dryly and narrowed his eyes.

"See you on the field…Potter," he hissed and turned to walk arrogantly toward the Slytherin table. Harry watched the back of Draco's head for a few moments before called loudly, "Yeah, on the field, Malfoy. We'll see who's crying then."

-

Harry barely felt the smooth wood of the broom as he mounted at Madam Hooch's call, and he gripped the Firebolt so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Malfoy's hair glinted in the sun, and Harry had difficulty prying his attention away to focus on the other players as they readied for the beginning of the match.

_"There's no way that I'll be the first to break down,"_ he thought in determination. _"He has no power over me. He never has, and he never will."_

A shrill whistle indicated the start of the match, and fourteen boys pushed from the ground to soar over the stands and fall into position. Harry glanced over and saw Ron nervously assume his place in front of the central goal hoop. Malfoy sped to a higher elevation, and Harry followed, determined to be the one to catch the Snitch and bring his team to victory. He would not allow the boy to win for Slytherin, even if he had to push Draco from his broom.

For ten excruciatingly long minutes, the two Seekers scanned the air for any hint of gold, and Harry painfully watched Ron miss 1…then 2…then 3 goals in a row. The Slytherins cheered gleefully, and Harry searched even more frantically for the snitch.

"You won't catch me, Potter," Malfoy called from above, and Harry looked up to meet his eyes. They were clear and cold, and his sleek, green robes rustled in the breeze. "You won't catch me," he repeated. "You'll never catch me. I won't let you catch me." The moment seemed frozen in time, as if once again they were the only two who existed, and Harry felt locked in place, as though he and Malfoy were suspended in the air while a never-ending, epic battle raged around them.

Suddenly, as if in slow motion, both boys turned to see the snitch hovering tantalizingly between them, beating its golden wings furiously. Harry's heart sped up, and he felt every muscle in his body stand at attention. It seemed to him that he would surely die if he couldn't get to the little ball before Malfoy.

There was a single second during which each boy watched the snitch, and then there was a rush of wind as they sped toward each other, consumed by sheer animosity, all pretenses abandoned with only one goal in mind.

Harry became aware of the dangerously close proximity of their brooms about one second too late, and before he could effectively turn, there was a sickening crunch, a sensation of falling, and he felt himself slip into unconsciousness.

-

The first thing Harry became aware of was a dull throbbing in his head and chest. He was lying on something soft, and he thought that he could detect a hint of light through his closed eyelids. He listened for voices but heard nothing except his own slow breathing, and so he carefully opened his eyes and saw that he was looking up at the sterol white ceiling of the Hospital Wing. In a painful rush, the memory of the match came back, and he groaned loudly, wishing he could drift back into peaceful sleep.

"Woken up finally, have you?" spoke a voice from beside him, and he turned to see the one thing that could make the situation worse. Draco Malfoy was in the bed next to him.

He was propped up on his pillow flipping through the pages of the Daily Prophet, and he spoke without actually looking at Harry. "You really are a wuss, Potter," he said casually. "I was up hours ago." Harry sighed in frustration and chose to ignore this comment. He was too tired to be in yet another argument.

"What's happening about the match?" he asked instead, pulling himself to a sitting position.

Malfoy flipped through a few more pages before answering.

"Cancelled. No Championship this year." Harry fell back in his bed and swore loudly as pain seared through his chest.

"Language," Malfoy warned mockingly, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, because you're the prince of anger management, Draco," he scoffed. "We wouldn't even be here if you'd been able to control your temper."

Malfoy remained unfazed.

"I seem to remember the crash involving two people, Potter. If I lost my temper, then so did you." Harry sighed again, feeling his level of irritation rising. Was it possible for him to have a moment in his life these days where anger wasn't a significantly present emotion?

"The only reason I lost my temper was because you were being an arrogant little git in the Great Hall, Malfoy," he said in annoyance. "What were you playing at?"

With no response at all from Malfoy's bed, Harry continued. "I mean, I never expected you to become Mr. Chivalry, but I also didn't expect you to go out of your way to insult me and try to curse me."

Malfoy shifted, but continued to read indifferently as if he hadn't heard Harry's statement, and the two lapsed into an odd silence that left Harry wondering hopelessly whether his endeavors to communicate with Malfoy were in vain.

A few minutes later, when Harry had almost given up all hope of a conversation, Malfoy folded up the paper and raised his eyes for the first time.

"Newsflash, Potter," he said icily. "I am an arrogant git, and I do go out of my way to insult you. I would have thought you'd be used to it by now."

Harry looked into his eyes and was startled to see how cold they were. Cold and clear…one of the last things he remembered seeing before their collision at the match.

He desperately wanted to continue the argument, to insult Malfoy, to blame Malfoy, but another part of him understood the pointlessness of it. One of them needed to be mature, and he couldn't count on Malfoy to take that plunge.

"Maybe you are…all of those things…" he said quietly, holding Draco's gaze in his own and praying that he could bring out the side of him that he had seen in the Trophy Room, "but…you're also something else. I don't know what…exactly…but Draco, you are something else."

For a moment, Harry thought he saw the coldness in Malfoy's eyes falter, but then the boy turned away sharply, and their gaze was broken. Harry understood that the conversation was over.

-

With many objections to Madam Pomphrey's vehement requests, Harry and Malfoy finally agreed to spend the night in the Hospital Wing. Harry personally felt that he would rather be doing anything else in the world other than lying inactively in a bed beside a boy who wouldn't say two words to him, but Madam Pomphrey insisted that they needed additional recovery time, away from other students.

Out of sheer boredom, Harry fell asleep at an early hour and lapsed into a very strange dream.

He was sitting by the lake alone, and there was a steady flow of eerie music coming from the Forbidden Forest that seemed to be somehow calling to him. He rose and walked slowly toward the trees, where he saw Draco half concealed in shadow, beckoning to him.

He moved forward until he could feel Draco's breath mingling with his own, and then he carefully kissed the boy's forehead, feeling hot skin beneath his lips. He tried to kiss him on the mouth, but he could never quite make contact, and suddenly Draco turned and sprinted into the night. Harry ran after him, stumbling blindly in the underbrush, but he was lost, and it was so dark that he couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face. He was crying and calling for Draco, but there was only blackness…

"Harry…HARRY. Wake up." Harry gasped and opened his eyes to see Malfoy's face hanging over his own, washed in moonlight. "You were having a bad dream…" Draco whispered, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. "You were…shaking…"

Harry took a long, shuddering breath and tried to bring himself back into reality.

"I'm fine," he said unconvincingly. "It was just…it was nothing…" Malfoy didn't move.

"You're not fine," he said quietly, looking down at his hands. His face looked so much less fierce in the glow of the moon that Harry couldn't stop staring. "I'm not fine either…" Malfoy continued. "I have the dreams too, you know. Every night. _Every _night…"

Harry looked questioningly at Draco, not wanting to say or do anything that would cause him to harden up again. This was the second time that he had shown tenderness under the cloak of shadows. It seemed to Harry that the darkness of night gave Malfoy the courage he needed to take off his mask and reveal something more vulnerable. _"It's as if he has two completely separate personalities,"_ Harry thought curiously, watching Draco's features. _"When it's dark…when we're alone…when he can hide in the shadows…he lets me see him."_

Malfoy was still looking down, his eyes half closed in the dark. When he raised his head, Harry was shocked to find that he could barely breathe from the clear beauty that radiated from the boy's eyes.

"I have to say something that's not going to be easy," Malfoy whispered. "In fact, it might be one of the hardest things I'll ever say, but it's important that you know. I'm…I'm…sorry…for the way I am… I'm…sorry."

Harry could only stare at Draco in utter amazement. _"Draco Malfoy doesn't apologize,"_ Harry thought in confusion. He wanted to say something. He wanted to say a million things all at the same time…but he could only sit there…in silence.

"I…my father…would kill me…my friends…I can't…" Malfoy continued. "I have a…there are…expectations. My life has always been planned out. You don't understand…how it is…with my family…" Malfoy's voice faltered, and he stopped speaking, turning away from Harry's gaze.

Harry felt stunned. The moment was so profound—so entirely out of character—that he wanted nothing more than to hold onto it and delay the moment when it would inevitably slip away.

Malfoy must have felt compelled to explain further, because he, again, opened his mouth to speak.

Harry quickly brought a finger to Draco's lips, silencing him before he could begin, and the two looked at each other. They saw each other as they had seen each other in the trophy room. They were no longer Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, but two lost people together, alone with each other in the moonlight.

"Don't think about tomorrow," Harry whispered, more for his own sake than for Malfoy's. "Don't think about yesterday, or this morning even. Don't think about the plan. Think about tonight. Think about right now."

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed the fabric of Draco's shirt and pulled him down into the bed. Their lips found each other, and together they fell into the rhythm of the moment, forgetting everything about the real world and entering a world entirely of their creation. Harry moved his hands up Draco's legs, and Draco slowly lifted Harry's shirt from his chest. Their tongues met, and they both groaned a little, pressing fiercely against each other as though trying to merge into one being. Draco gently bit down on Harry's lower lip, causing him to shudder hard and tighten his grip on Draco's back. He knew that he should be concerned. He knew that he should be frightened by the fact that his body was responding like this to the touch of another boy, of Malfoy no less, in ways that he had never experienced with Cho or Ginny (when he imagined her). But, it felt so right, like coming home, and he didn't question it. He _couldn't _question it. He could only feel…and move…and touch back.

Draco began to suck ever so slightly on the tip of his tongue, and Harry felt a tight heat begin to coil in his lower belly and at the base of his spine. His breath was coming in short gasps, and, without thinking, he gripped Draco's hips and pulled the other boy onto his lap, gasping at the contact.

Draco broke the kiss to throw his head back wildly, grinding into Harry in a way that made him bite down on his own lip, drawing blood. Harry reached up, wiping away the red droplets in concern, but Malfoy sucked the finger into his mouth without hesitation, tonguing it like a piece of candy, and Harry lost all control. Pulling his hand away, he grabbed Draco's hips again, pulling down almost brutally as he pushed up. The pleasure was almost too much. He felt his vision whiting out as the tightness in his stomach intensified. "Harry," gasped Malfoy, running his hands up and down Harry's chest frantically, "I c-can't-I'm going to…" Harry understood.

"Me too," he groaned, feeling himself nearing the edge. "Draco, look at me. I need to see it." Malfoy faltered for a split second before he bent down, his face mere inches from Harry's. He continued to thrust, his eyes heavily-lidded and his lips parted until his movements grew ragged. He suddenly hissed loudly, his features flooded with pure heat and pleasure, and seeing that pleasure sent Harry careening over the edge, shuddering and shaking as he came harder than he ever had before. Malfoy slumped down on top of Harry, his body heavy and warm, and the two of them simply lay in silence, all words escaping them. Neither of them wanted to end the embrace, though, and in the darkness of the Hospital Wing, the two boys lay together until dawn, until the night shadows could no longer protect them, and until it was time to leave their secret place and step back into a cold, clear world of tomorrows, yesterdays and expectations.


	5. By Day and By Night

The softness of spring was beginning to fade into the heavy sweetness of summer, and Harry found himself staring dreamily out of the window during Charms one afternoon. The smell of green grass was intoxicating, and the feel of a light breeze on the back of his neck was almost enough to induce a peaceful slumber.

Ron sat to his left, gazing at the ceiling with a slack jaw and a vacant expression, and even Hermione's eyes were somewhat glazed over as she absent-mindedly scribbled notes from the board. With summer break peeking around the corner, laziness seemed to infect almost everyone, which was unhelpful as final exams began in five short days.

Harry glanced over at Malfoy, an almost constant routine that he had developed, and watched as the blonde-haired boy inattentively ran his fingers over his wand, checking the smooth wood for blemishes. His lips narrowed into a pout as he found what must have been a smudge, and Harry's heart skipped a beat as Malfoy gently used the sleeve of his robe to remove the imperfection.

Suddenly, as though Harry's eyes were a pair of heat lamps, Malfoy turned around to return his stare. Harry realized that a half-smile was forming on his mouth, and he quickly tried to rearrange his features, turning his face away from Ron incase he couldn't quite manage accurately enough. Draco also turned his head away, _"preferably for the same reason,"_ Harry thought, because although no visual affection had been exchanged, the simple interaction buzzed with a passion that he hoped was mutually comprehended between the two of them.

A week had passed since he and Draco had been released from the Hospital Wing, and although they had shared one or two intimate whispers in empty classrooms, that was as far as anything seemed to get. It certainly didn't help matters that they were forced to act like either strangers or enemies by the light of day. It wasn't something that they talked about…It was simply…a necessity that they had both seemed to accept.

Harry repositioned his gaze toward the window again and realized that with the pressure of examinations mingled with Hermione's incessant nagging, he had had almost no time, and Harry hadn't managed to slip away to speak to Malfoy alone for almost three days.

"Hey, look at this, mate," Ron whispered, nudging Harry out of his daydream. Harry glanced at Ron's desk and saw a rather humorous illustration of Professor Flitwick that had been enchanted to display the teacher doing wild gymnastics similar to those of a monkey.

Harry stifled a snort of laughter, and Ron grinned widely, miming eating a banana as Flitwick was writing on the board. Hermione threw them a dirty look and mimed something unpleasant having to do with a slapping motion, which shut the two of them up fairly quickly.

_"I wonder if it's possible to die from sexual frustration,"_ Harry mused, steadily slipping back into a hazy stupor. _"No…it definitely would have already happened…"_ He was seriously considering taking a small nap when Flitwick clapped his hands loudly, causing Harry to slam his knee painfully against the bottom of the table.

"So, now that I have your attention," Flitwick squeaked, "everyone pair up with someone from the opposite side of the room and work on the practical part of the theory. Remember, emphasis on the second syllable or else your partner's body hair might turn an unusual shade of green."

Harry scoured his short term memory, trying to recall if he had heard anything that had been mentioned about the "theory," but his mind was blank, and he looked at Hermione with a hopeful expression.

"Honestly…I don't know why I do this," she sighed, pointing her wand at her paper and muttering the word "Bi-Clonus," so that the notes produced two copies of themselves very efficiently.

She handed one copy to Harry and one copy to Ron and then looked at the two boys severely. "You know what this means," she said, shaking her finger ominously. "Next time…"

"There won't be a next time…" Ron and Harry chanted in unison, and she nodded her head sharply. "Good, now go find partners, both of you, and remember, second syllable."

Ron strolled toward Dean, who looked equally confused about the procedure. Harry began to gesture to Seamus, but as he raised his hand in a wave, he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned around to see Malfoy standing behind him.

For a moment, he waited, expecting Draco to tell him to move, or more accurately, exclaim that he should "move his scar-head and stop standing around like an idiot," but no such remark came.

"Yes?" Harry asked pointedly, crossing his arms and wondering what this could be about.

"Let's be partners," Draco suggested casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be on friendly speaking terms with Harry.

Harry took a few steps back and looked alarmingly around the room, catching site of Ron's incredulous expression and Hermione's disbelieving stare.

"What are you playing at?" he hissed beneath his breath. "You know perfectly well that we can't be partners. Now…pretend to…curse me or something…. Come on! This is looking weirder by the second."

Malfoy didn't move for a moment, and Harry realized that he looked almost sad…but in the next minute, his sneer was back, and he shoved Harry roughly, glaring contemptuously around the room.

"Obviously I'm kidding, Potter," he smirked, smoothing his hair haughtily. "Don't stand there like an idiot."

He stalked away to join Crabbe, who was looking relieved that Malfoy had returned to character, and the two of them whispered behind their hands before laughing loudly in Harry's direction.

Feeling slightly disoriented, Harry turned back to Seamus and shrugged in what was actually genuine confusion. Hermione caught his eye from the other side of the room, and the two of them exchanged a darkly significant look, which left Harry with a sinking feeling of dread somewhere in his stomach.

After practicing the spell for a few very unsuccessful minutes and having managed to do almost everything other than what the charm intended, Harry dropped his wand arm in defeat. Professor Flitwick glanced at his class in exasperation, his eyes drifting from Neville, who had glued his own feet to the floor, to Ron, who was staring horror-struck at Dean's lime-green hair, and finally called loudly, "Okay, everyone! That's enough now! Return to your seats. I think we need a short reminder about how to engage in proper conduct."

The class trudged drearily back to the tables, and Flitwick clapped his hands again to indicate that they should all listen carefully.

"Don't forget that this is a dueling charm," he said, eying them as if he knew that they all had, indeed, forgotten. "That means that you need to follow the dueling guidelines, which I will review for those of you who are…a little preoccupied." Harry shifted guiltily in his chair.

"No…I have a better idea," Flitwick corrected himself, scanning the room thoroughly.

"Skivving off and doing something useful?" Harry muttered to Ron, who grinned in agreement.

"We'll have two of you come up and see if you can offer a demonstration to the class. Potter, I can only assume that your whispering to Mr. Weasley is an expression of how much you would like to volunteer. Thank you."

Harry gaped at Flitwick stupidly, and then, deciding that he would prefer to avoid any risk of a detention, slowly got to his feet and walked up to the front of the room.

"Wonderful," piped the teacher cheerily. "Now, Malfoy, I seem to recall you calling Potter an 'idiot.' Perhaps you would like to join him up here and show him how much _you_ know on this subject?"

It was Malfoy's turn to gape, and he gave Harry a look that seemed to say, _"If I didn't know any better, I'd think that everyone in the whole school knows what's going on between us and wants to make us as uncomfortable as possible."_ At least, that was certainly what was going through Harry's mind. He had only been forced to work in proximity with Malfoy once in his life before, and now two teachers in a row had caused this to happen. It was slightly unnerving to say the least, besides being annoyingly inconvenient.

Malfoy pulled himself up from the table and hesitantly joined Harry in front of the class, trying to appear composed. Harry had a vivid memory of the last time they had dueled together (their second year at Hogwarts) and of how he had exposed to the school that he was a Parsletongue. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and he hoped that this experience would prove to be slightly more successful.

"Now, if the two of you know the proper procedure, then you may commence," Flitwick was saying from the podium, "but you will stick to the incantations that we have been focusing on during the dueling portion of the semester, and you will remember that your aim is to defeat the other by either rendering him useless, in the safe sense of course, or causing him to surrender. Begin when you see fit."

Harry saw Crabbe make a rude gesture and pretend to swoon, causing the Slytherins to laugh raucously, and Goyle was whispering charm suggestions loudly to Malfoy that Harry was sure had nasty results.

The two boys approached each other, their eyes locked and their postures rigid, and when they were face to face, they each bent in a slight courtesy bow. They held their wands up, and then spun around to walk in opposite directions 1…2…3…4…5 steps. They faced each other again and spread their legs in the typical Dueling Stance, ready to begin the incantations.

Harry held his wand steady, watching for a sign that Malfoy was starting to use a charm, but Malfoy seemed to be waiting for Harry to make the first move, and for a good ten seconds they simply stood motionless, unable to utter a single word.

Flitwick cleared his throat awkwardly. "You may begin," he reiterated, peering at them curiously.

Harry shifted his stance, resting his weight on the opposite foot, and tried to force himself to speak. _"Come on…"_ he urged himself desperately. _"Just curse him. A little curse…only a little one…you look like a fool."_ Malfoy opened his mouth but then closed it again, looking at his feet uncomfortably.

Once again, Harry had the familiar feeling of being frozen in time. He was unhappily aware of the spectacle that they were causing, but no matter how intensely he tried to force his brain to concentrate, the words just refused to leave his lips.

The entire class was hushed, including Flitwick, and no one seemed to want to move and break the strange stillness between the two enemies. Ron's mouth was half-open, and Hermione's quill was dripping ink onto her parchment as she stared expectantly at Harry.

Suddenly, Malfoy dipped down into another bow that was much lower than the one he had previously displayed, and Harry watched him curiously, unsure of what he was trying to do. After a few seconds, Malfoy straightened his shoulders, and, without a word of explanation, walked silently back to his table to sit down.

Harry remained up front, still absurdly posed in the Dueling Stance, utterly bewildered about what his next step should be.

"Harry," Hermione whispered from her seat, "sit down. It's over." Harry looked up and saw that the entire class was staring at him in confusion. He jerked out of stance and walked quickly back to his seat, hanging his head in embarrassment, not able to meet Ron or Hermione's eyes.

Professor Flitwick made a small sound of incredulity in the back of his throat and stepped down from the podium.

"Mr. Malfoy has just…surrendered…without utterance," he spoke quietly. "It is…an act to show high…admiration towards another wizard…and it is…well…it's rare…"

Harry felt his pulse quicken and looked up at Malfoy, who was staring straight ahead with an un-readable expression. Crabbe and Goyle were regarding him with mingled shock and disgust, but he didn't acknowledge them and simply looked forward with steely eyes.

"It's late…" Flitwick continued, still speaking in a hushed tone. "Homework…study for the exams. Yes…study…class dismissed."

There was a slight rustling of parchment and bags as the students packed up in a very subdued manner, and Harry walked out ahead of Ron and Hermione, knowing that a confrontation was inevitable but wanting to delay it for as long as possible.

"Hey, wait up," Ron called loudly, and Harry's stomach plummeted. He regretfully slowed his stride, and his two best friends jogged up to walk beside him. For a few minutes, no one said anything, but Harry looked up to see that they were both staring excessively at him, and he sighed in frustration.

"Don't ask me, because I don't know any more about it than you do," he snapped, feeling extremely irritated for some reason.

"Harry…we just…is there anything at all that you'd like to tell us?" Hermione asked quietly, almost desperately. "Don't think we haven't noticed how you've been acting lately, and we…I mean you…I mean we…are your friends, Harry. You can talk to us…"

_"Not about this…"_ Harry thought sadly, and he shook his head in response. "I need some time alone," he said, refusing to look at them. "I'll see you both at dinner."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed in the opposite direction, feeling an odd mixture of guilt, confusion, excitement, lust, and anger running through his body. Almost without realizing it, he broke into a run, his feet hitting the ground sharply and his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. He ran until he reached the place where he had drawn his wand against Malfoy almost two weeks earlier, and, somehow, he suspected that the other boy would be there.

Ducking underneath the bush, he felt his heart skitter wildly. He saw Draco sitting in almost the exact position that he had been in the last time they had seen each other there.

Harry didn't want to ask about the surrender, because Malfoy had already explained. He had explained in the way that he had bowed, genuinely bowed, and in the way that he had lingered in the position for longer than was needed to be courteous. He had explained through his silence and through his eyes. There was no need for words right now.

Abandoning the tenderness that had been a lingering part of their previous encounters, Harry strode toward Malfoy and bent to his knees in front of the boy. Lifting Draco's chin, Harry fiercely kissed his lips and pushed him to the ground, not caring about the fact that they were outside in broad daylight (even if they were concealed from view).

Climbing on top of him, Harry pressed his body against Malfoy's and reached up to run his fingers through the boy's blonde hair. He really was truly beautiful. Malfoy raked his fingers up Harry's back, echoing the harsh desperation that Harry was feeling, and the two of them merged together in a wild fight for freedom.

Harry's mouth moved to Malfoy's neck, and he carefully bit down on the tender skin as Draco gripped the hem of Harry's robes with a crushing intensity. In that moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to mark him, to lay some sort of claim to this gorgeous creature who was writhing beneath him, who had risked everything to demonstrate to Harry how he really felt.

Passionately, he sucked the skin in between his teeth, leaving a bruise that he knew would linger. He couldn't be bothered to explain his actions to himself. He just knew that he wanted Draco to be his…that he wanted to be Draco's…that they belonged to each other now. Maybe they always had.

They moved frantically in the underbrush until they were both exhausted and out of breath, knowing that they would have to wait to do what they both _really _wanted to do, and then they lay together for a long time, listening to the soft sounds of the lake and feeling the gentle touch of the breeze on their burning skin.

Hours went by as they lay in silence, with no need for explanations or excuses, and finally, when the sun began to sink low in the sky, Draco cautiously sat up and looked down at Harry. His eyes were tired and sad.

"My Father's getting out of Azkaban," he said, his mouth pursing as though the words almost stung his lips. "He gave names. They're releasing him tomorrow."


	6. Expectations and Destinies

Lucius had a sunken appearance, as though some of his vitality had withered inside of him, but he held himself with an air of superiority, and Harry noticed that Draco still cowered under his father's gaze.

True to the boy's word, Azkaban had released the eldest Malfoy that very morning, and before an hour had passed, Lucius had predictably appeared at Hogwarts, requesting a visit with his son.

Harry stood motionless behind a great pillar, draped in his invisibility cloak and listening carefully to the conversation between the two of them. With an incessant wind dancing across the grounds, he could only perceive snippets of what was being said, but he didn't dare move any closer for fear of being detected. He wouldn't put it past Lucius to have activated a secrecy charm around his son in case of an "intrusion."

"…disappointed in you, Draco…" Harry suddenly picked up, and he strained his ears fiercely, taking just one more step forward. "…would have thought…didn't listen…." Lucius was gesturing angrily, and Draco had lowered his eyes to the ground, looking defeated. "You know what might have happened….could have lost it all, you foolish boy." Lucius spat the last part of the sentence, and Harry clenched his teeth in frustration, wishing he could somehow shield Draco from the verbal blows.

_"No wonder he acts the way he does…"_ Harry thought, watching Lucius loom dauntingly over his son as he shook a finger ominously in the boy's face. _"What kind of father can't even spare a friendly greeting after being away from his family for almost a year?"_

There was a sharp noise, and Harry realized with horror that Lucius had slapped Draco soundly across the face. Harry had to grip the Pillar brutally to stop himself from bursting forward to intervene, but Draco had hardly moved at all. His eyes were still downcast and his arms hung limply by his side.

"Yes, Father…" Harry heard him mutter obediently, and Lucius smiled coldly in the sunlight.

"Good," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he reached down to stiffly ruffle Draco's hair. "Make me proud."

Draco nodded wearily, and the two of them turned to walk toward the Great Hall, Lucius throwing his arm around Draco's shoulder, possibly to give the illusion that they had just been tearfully reunited.

Harry slumped furiously against the pillar, yanking off his invisibility cloak and kicking the solid marble with all his strength. The only thing _that_ accomplished was a searing pain that coursed through his foot, but it certainly felt better than doing nothing.

_"Is everything going to just…go back to the way it was?"_ he thought stormily, glaring at a young first year who happened to walk by him and then immediately feeling guilty about it. _"Why did they let him out? How could they have?"_ He picked up a pebble and chucked it savagely towards the wall, listening to the sharp crack as it made contact.

Not only had Voldemort gained back one of his most vehement supporters, but, from what Harry had heard and from what he knew about the Malfoys, he was about to gain Lucius's son as well, and if Voldemort gained Draco…then Harry would lose him.

A foreboding cloud drifted fatefully across the sun, and Harry clutched the soft cloak in his hands, staring at the dark shadow that fell menacingly across the grounds.

-

"I've been looking for you everywhere," came a voice from behind him, and Harry turned slowly to see Draco standing a few feet away. It had been approximately an hour since Harry had seen the two head toward the Great Hall, and he had been unable to motivate himself to move to a new location.

Harry noticed that Draco had lost the broken appearance that he had exhibited with his father, but there was still a hint of despondence in his eyes, and Harry realized that the boy's scars with Lucius must run deep.

"I've been…catching some fresh air…before exams, you know," Harry said steadily, knowing full-well that Draco was perfectly aware of the fact that he was lying.

"No, you weren't," Malfoy said blatantly, taking a step forward.

"Better not do that, Draco. Your father might be watching," Harry said, finding it almost impossible to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Draco was silent for a few seconds before stepping back, and Harry looked up to see that his face was tinted with obvious pain at Harry's comment. "Look…I didn't mean…I'm sorry," Harry said, getting to his feet and approaching Malfoy. "I'm…sorry. I know this isn't easy for you. I know that…I'm just…I just don't know what to do, that's all…" His voice trailed off as he looked up at Draco.

Malfoy's features softened, and he glanced around before hesitantly putting his hand on the side of Harry's face in an attempt to reassure them both.

"There are…things to say," he whispered gently, although with a profound sadness pulling at the corners of his eyes. "Come to the Trophy Room. It's too risky out here. You were…you were right…about my father…"

Harry placed his own hand over Malfoy's and nodded, wishing that they could stay in this position for the rest of time, reaching out to each other, comforting each other, but the world didn't want them to comfort each other, and the world was always watching.

"Right," Harry mumbled quickly, turning away. "Let's go. There's not much time. Your father will start to wonder."

-

The hallways were deserted as the two boys darted up the stairs toward the trophy room, praying that they wouldn't run into Lucius, or anyone, actually, who would consider it strange to see the two of them together. _"Which is basically every student, teacher, or guest in this place,"_ Harry thought worriedly, speeding up the pace.

However, everyone seemed to be outside enjoying one of the last few unoccupied days before exams, and Harry and Malfoy entered the Trophy Room without having seen (or been seen by) a single other person.

They both looked around quietly, and with an almost crushingly-intense sensation, the memories that the room held came rushing back into Harry's mind. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes drifted toward the equipment closet. _"This is where it all really began…"_ he thought.

The trophies glistened brightly in the sunlight, and Harry's gaze found the one that had been his father's…a star Quidditch player…years before Harry had been born. Oddly, a feeling of warmth returning to his ice-cold chest and he felt strangely consoled as he and Malfoy sat almost reluctantly on the same window sill that had been coated with a layer of moonlight not so very ago.

He raised his eyes, looking expectantly at Draco, who surprisingly began to speak immediately. 

"I'm sure you know that I had a conversation with my father today," he said briskly, smoothing his hair back apprehensively and letting his eyes wander restlessly around the room. "He wants me to do something, and I'm going to, right as soon as school gets out…sooner if he…if we…can find a way."

Shocked as he was by this pronouncement, Harry didn't falter, instead keeping his expression sturdy as he tried to draw Draco back into his gaze.

"What exactly is it that your father wants you to do?" he asked calmly, although his mind was reeling with the very probable worst case scenario. Malfoy looked determinedly out the window.

"Before he went to…before he went away, he told me that I should seek out the…Dark Lord…during his absence…that I should join him…to take his place. You see, my father didn't know when or if he would be back..." Malfoy stopped and cleared his throat roughly before continuing, giving Harry the impression that he didn't want to speak the words almost as much as Harry didn't want to hear them. "To make a long story short," Draco continued, I didn't, as you most likely know, do that, and my father isn't pleased…nor is the Dark Lord apparently, and so…my…my father is taking me to him, so that I can give him my loyalties. I'm…well, I'm leaving, to join him, and that's really all there is to say." His speech ended abruptly and left a deep, hollow chill in its place that began to widen perceptibly between the boys.

"I can't even believe that this is happening" Harry hissed angrily, losing all composure as he stared at Draco like he had never quite seen him properly before. "How can you say that so casually? Voldemort is a murderer! Your father is a murderer! Is that what you want to be? You're going to give everything up for that?"

For a moment, Malfoy looked at Harry intently, and then he shook his head in weary disbelief.

"You just don't get it, do you?" he whispered, although his voice was full of quiet severity. "You really don't get it. You're not the only one who has a destiny, Harry!" It was the first time in a very long time that Draco had addressed him by his first name. "I have a destiny too," Draco continued, "and it's not something that I can just walk away from!" Malfoy's chest had begun to shake slightly as he breathed. "There are expectations for me too! I tried to tell you in the hospital wing. I tried…" Harry reached out to grab his hand, but Draco pulled away, his face turning even paler in the afternoon light.

"You don't have to do something just because your father tells you to," Harry murmured softly, feeling a sharp pang of despair somewhere in his chest. "You have a choice, Draco. You always have a choice." Malfoy laughed dryly, and the piercing sound seemed jarring as it echoed across the room.

"What choice is that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I mean, tell me, what is this choice that you seem to think I have? Death? A life of hiding? I don't call those choices. The world has a plan for me, don't you see? It's not just my father! The whole bloody world has my life mapped out for me, and who am I to prove them all wrong? Who am I? I'm no one, nothing except what everyone always says…" Draco had stopped looking scared and was beginning to look determined, as though if he could only keep talking, keep reiterating the idea, then he would be able to convince himself that this was the only way.

Harry felt his eyes fill embarrassingly with tears, and he willed them fiercely away, looking down at his hands.

"What about what I say you are?" he asked hesitantly. "Does that mean anything at all?" Malfoy looked uncomfortable and smoothed his hair yet again, as though remaining physically smooth and composed would keep him mentally smooth and composed.

"You're only one person," he finally said bluntly, his tone dark. "All of them…they've known me for my whole life. The Deatheaters, the Dark Lord…_they're _the ones who will be there for me."

Harry sighed deeply, feeling resentment start to bubble again to the surface.

"Don't call him the Dark Lord. He's not a Lord. He's a killer."

"Then don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to, Potter."

"Why don't you take responsibility for your own life for a change, Malfoy?"

"Who are you to talk, Potter? As if you have control over yours!" The two boys had barely raised their voices above whispers, but the gap between them had grown immense in depth, and the tension was so thick that Harry could barely stand it. He hated the way that this was happening. He hated it. But, he realized on some level that Malfoy was right. He couldn't fix this any more than Harry could. Voldemort would never stop until he had what he wanted. Harry would have liked to believe that he could have protected Draco had he chosen differently, but in reality, there was a chance too large to ignore that this would have proven impossible, and even if it didn't, Malfoy couldn't survive locked up the way Sirius had been. He would go insane. Harry could never fix that…not with his wand, or with his broomstick, or with his words, or even with his love. That was why he hated it.

Harry tentatively lifted his head to watch Draco and was touched to see how resolutely he was trying to maintain a brave expression. It was a struggle, and Harry detected the slight hint of fear that was breaking through the boy's defenses. Malfoy needed his shadows. He needed his shield, and, without it, Harry realized with a jolt, he was dead. The world didn't play fair. Sometimes, the only way to keep the truth safe was to hide it behind a mask.

With an unimaginably heavy rush of sadness, he reached forward and placed his hand on Draco's cheek, just as Draco had done for him. Images flashed through his mind. The bush, the closet, the hospital wing…whispered words, lips, eyes, smiles…trust, love, truth…

"Then, I guess this is fitting," he whispered, stroking Malfoy's skin. "I guess it's fitting that the place where it all really began is the place where everything ends." Malfoy looked up, his eyes relieved and desperate at the same time, and Harry continued. "You're right Draco," he murmured, his chest shaking as he held back the tears that he knew would come anyway, "You and I can't ever work."

****NOT the end! Don't worry, folks! Comments/criticism/ideas/thoughts are greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think. Also, I'd like to go through and add several new graphic scenes to the upcoming chapters. Smut-wise, how much are you comfortable with? Thanks for reading! Again, ten chapters are already written and will be posted fairly quickly as I add/edit scenes. I expect all of it to be up in the next three days and chapter eleven to be written within a week (I hope).


	7. Tom Rutheford

**Warning! Somewhat graphic scene of a very sexual nature toward the end.**

Their bodies were damp with sweat as they caressed each other, losing themselves in a tangle of kisses and whispers, pressing hot skin against hot skin. There were no boundaries. It was impossible to distinguish between the start of one and the beginning of another. There was no feeling except blissfully pure desire, an all-consuming hunger that created and fed the moment with wild intensity. Lips on lips, and hands finding forbidden places to explore. There was nothing to fear and nothing to dread, because the present moment was all that existed, thriving and expanding on a single kiss, a single touch…a single whisper…

Harry woke with a start, breathing heavily and feeling extremely disoriented. In the darkness, it took him a few seconds to gather his senses and adjust to his surroundings. He reached shakily toward the curtains that enveloped his four-poster bed and pressed them between his fingers, reassuring himself of his reality and inhaling the familiarity around him.

Glancing over at Ron's bed, he wondered if his sleep had been fitful enough to rouse his friend, but heavy snores and grunts indicated that Harry was the only one who lay awake.

The next morning would be the start of the last day of examinations, and Harry silently cursed himself for not being able to get the sleep he so desperately needed. For the past five nights, he had irreversibly been shaken into consciousness by dreams that always left him feeling achy and unsatisfied. He didn't feign ignorance. He knew what the dreams were about, but he felt that he would give an arm and a leg to make them disappear from his mind for good.

After the finality of their conversation in the Trophy Room, Draco and Harry hadn't exchanged so much as a single glance, and the persistent image of Malfoy in his dreams was doubling the already-difficult task of erasing their brief but intense relationship from his thoughts.

Harry groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, trying to fall back into sleep, but his brain was working feverishly, and he couldn't seem to prevent Draco's face from drifting annoyingly across his mind.

_"Why can't I just get over this…"_ he thought in exhaustion, pressing his face into his pillow, _"I've hated him for six years so WHY can't I just…get over this…"_

Giving up all hope of sleep, he dragged himself from beneath the warmth of his blankets and quietly made for the door that led down into the common room. After settling himself into his favorite armchair, he realized shakily that the last time he had been here in the middle of the night had been only a few short hours before he and Malfoy had shared their first kiss.

He stared into the few remaining embers that glowed in the fireplace, as if somehow they might offer him the answers he needed so badly, but they simply twinkled up at him dimly, and he slowly sank back into the chair to wait for the first light of dawn.

-

"Oh, Harry, don't tell me you've been up all night again!" Harry drifted from his stupor and raised his eyes to see Hermione standing at the entrance to the common room with her hands on her hips, still wearing a dark blue bathrobe. Feeling too weary to lie, Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes, Hermione, I've been up all night again," he mumbled into his lap, and she clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"You'll never be able to make it through exams today," she stated and walked toward him in the dull morning light. "How come you didn't sleep?"

Harry shook his head slightly and turned away, wanting to be left alone again. "You know," Hermione continued, taking the seat opposite him, "I'm not stupid." Harry looked up and gave his friend a questioning glance.

"Well, I'm glad you finally figured that out about yourself, Hermione," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Took you long enough."

She sighed impatiently.

"I'm not stupid about _you_, Harry," she corrected him, holding him with a steely gaze, and he felt his insides begin to churn uncomfortably. "I'd have to be blind and deaf to miss all the clues, and, to be frank, I'm sick and tired of walking on eggshells around you and wondering if you'll ever decide to talk about it."

Harry pressed his hand despairingly against his head and wished that he could somehow disappear, but his friend continued to talk. "So, Harry," she said briskly, "you're not leaving this chair until you tell me exactly what's been going on, and I mean _exactly_. You've never been good at lying, so don't even try."

Harry half-heartedly attempted to think of a way that he could escape the conversation and still remain Hermione's friend, but she had a determined glint in her eyes, and Harry realized that he had been avoiding this encounter for long enough.

Reluctantly, he let his hands fall away from his face, and he looked into Hermione's eyes. He had no strength left for dishonesty. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to prepare himself for whatever her reaction might be.

"You have to understand…that I never…I mean I never planned for it to happen…" he began, holding on to the arms of the chair rigidly. "Never in a million years would I ever…but…I did…well, no, he did…but it was because of the spell…" he realized that he was only making a very small amount of sense, and he took another deep breath. "Okay, I'll start from the beginning," he continued, after taking a deep breath. I was walking…and I came across Malfoy. He was behind a bush. I just…I followed him…and he said some things that made me angry, and so I…well, I actually…okay, I sort of…cursed him, but not really!" he insisted, on seeing Hermione's expression. "Not really, because…what happened next, well, funny really, actually not at all…we, er…he came up to me and, he, you know…" Hermione was looking quizzically at him.

"Actually, I don't know," she said bluntly, and Harry exhaled impatiently.

"Don't make me say it," he mumbled. "What is the last thing in the world that you would expect Malfoy and me to be doing behind a bush?"

Looking up, he saw realization spread gradually across Hermione's face, and his stomach plummeted in anticipation.

"Do you mean that you…that the two of you…"

"Yes," Harry said shortly, and he felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Yes, that's what I mean, and, just wait until you hear the whole story to say anything, okay? Remember when I asked you to look up those Latin words for me?" She nodded quietly. "Right, well, that was the curse…the spell…that I used, and…I found out that it meant…that it meant…" He cleared his throat and gripped the chair even more tightly. "It meant that…I had…revealed Malfoy's true feelings."

He didn't want to give Hermione an open space to talk, so he continued quickly, "And I met him in the Trophy Room, to tell him, you know, and it…happened again, and then…Quidditch…we were playing, you know, then…the hospital wing, and we…talked…really, we did Hermione! We talked, and it was great, it was brilliant, because I never knew that another side of him even existed, and now…now we, I just…he's leaving, with his father, and I just wish I could hate him again, but I can't, and I, I don't know what to do…" His voice trailed off miserably and there was a vast silence that seemed to press in on him from all corners of the room. He wondered if Hermione was too disgusted to even open her mouth and speak.

However, after a few painfully long seconds, she rose from her chair and walked over to him, putting her hand comfortingly on his shoulder and smiling at him a little sadly.

"No wonder you've been out of sorts lately," she whispered, looking into his strained eyes. "I won't pretend that I'm happy to see you going through this, but Harry, I'm really glad that you told me, and everything's going to be okay."

Harry felt an immense rush of relief coursing through his body, and he suddenly felt so much lighter, as if just by listening to him, by not passing judgment, Hermione had taken some of his pain.

"You don't…hate me?" he asked quietly, not wanting to let himself believe it until it had been confirmed. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Of course not, Harry!" she said, giving him a light slap on the cheek. "I mean, come on! I'm your friend. I'm here to help you, not hate you. How could you think that?" Harry slowly let his muscles relax, and he looked at Hermione in a way that simply said _"Thank you."_ He didn't even need to speak the words. She smiled again and sat down on the floor in front of him. "Don't mention it," she said gently, "Now, come on and tell me the _whole_ story, details and all."

Harry grinned and began to talk, freely letting himself unload for the first time in what seemed like a decade, and by the time the large school clock indicated that it was seven in the morning, he had almost talked himself hoarse. As they both rose to head down to the great hall, he felt overwhelmed by the feeling of gratitude he held in his heart for Hermione. She was a true friend, and he wasn't alone with the weight of his secret anymore. Watching the rays of sun as they danced in through the open windows, he began to feel a little glimmer of hope.

"Potions as the last exam," Ron said in irritation as he, Harry, and Hermione made their way down to the dungeons. "Why couldn't it have been anything else?"

"Honestly, Ron, it's not that bad," Hermione scolded, flipping through her book as she walked and trying to review some of the theories. "I mean, it's a lot better with Slughorn, and this will probably be loads easier than McGonagall's exam. Even I thought that was difficult-"

"Right. I got it, Hermione," Ron mumbled as they neared the entrance to the room. The three of them walked toward their seats, but as Harry was about to sit down, he noticed a small piece of parchment on his chair. With a bemused expression, he picked it up and looked around to see if anyone near him had misplaced it.

When no one made any claims to the paper, he slowly unfolded it, and his chest constricted tightly at what he saw. It would have made no sense to anyone else, but he understood it perfectly, as well as if a note had been written out in detail. In the upper right corner there was a miniscule drawing of a trophy. There was nothing else on the parchment, but it spoke volumes to him, and he looked over at Malfoy, who returned his stare softly with a glint in his eyes.

Harry's mind drifted for the entirety of the exam, but he had never cared less about school and grades. The only thing that he could concentrate on was watching the wall-clock and praying for time to move just a little bit more quickly.

Finally, after what seemed like centuries of waiting, Professor Slughorn cleared his throat and announced that it was time for them to collect their potion samples in glass vials and bring them to the front of the room. Harry stared at the fuming mess in his cauldron and shoveled a small amount into his vial before delivering it to Slughorn. _"Oh well, it's only one bad grade,"_ he thought half-heartedly, cleaning up his area of the table with a scourgify charm.

Remembering the piece of parchment, his heart sped up, and he threw a glance over his shoulder toward Malfoy who gave him a significant look. Harry felt his face and neck heat up alarmingly, and he turned around carelessly, colliding head-on with Hermione as she was packing up.

"Careful, Harry!" she chided, picking up her books which had fallen to the ground. "It's a good thing I just cleaned up my cauldron or you'd be soaked in a very unpleasant potion right now!" Harry felt flustered and nodded in embarrassment.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," he said, reaching down to help her with her books and then, in an undertone, he whispered, "I'm meeting Malfoy in the Trophy Room. He gave me…sort of a note…" Hermione looked up in surprise.

"I thought you said everything ended," she whispered back, glancing toward Malfoy's end of the room.

"Stop that," Harry hissed. "Don't look, and yeah, I did, because I thought it had. There must be something else that he needs to tell me." Hermione appeared worried for some reason, and Harry looked at her curiously. "What?" he asked pointedly, and she sighed.

"No, nothing, Harry. It's just that…I don't like seeing you like this, and I don't want…I don't want everything to start all over again."

Harry gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"I can handle this. Don't worry," he said with a smile, but she looked unconvinced.

"Can you, Harry?"

At that moment, Ron squatted on the floor beside them and looked back and forth from Harry's face to Hermione's.

"What are we whispering about?" he asked with a grin, and Harry shrugged casually, deciding to ignore Hermione's comment.

"Just exam bashing," he said, getting to his feet, and Ron's grin widened.

"Yeah, tell me about it," he said cheerfully. "I couldn't even read the 4th step of the procedure. I think it said something about adding honey liquor, but I just skipped it." The three of them exited the Dungeon together, Ron still chattering about what a failure his potion had been, but when they reached the stairs, Harry cleared his throat and announced that he had to make a detour to the Owlery.

"Who are you writing to?" Ron asked, and Harry avoided Hermione's accusatory gaze.

"Oh I…no one…Hedwig's been looking a bit ill, and I just wanted to check in, see how she's doing, so I'll just meet the two of you later, back in the Common Room." He could feel Hermione's eyes boring into the side of his face.

"We'll come with you," Ron said, turning to follow Harry, but he shook his head fiercely.

"No. I mean, I'll go alone, thanks. I need, you know, the time, to myself." Ron looked a little hurt, so Harry smiled warmly. "No offense, really. I'll be back before you guys know it."

He turned and headed toward the owlery, but once his two friends were out of view, he doubled back and raced as fast as he could toward the Trophy Room, his mind spinning with thoughts about why Malfoy could have possibly arranged this meeting. _"Could it…could it be-,"_ he wondered, remembering the look in Draco's eyes. His stomach flip-flopped.

When he reached the heavy doors, he paused for a minute, taking a second to breathe deeply and gather his senses, and then he slowly pushed them open, walking into what was now becoming quite a familiar place to him.

Malfoy was standing at the opposite end of the room, running his hands over one of the largest trophies, and he barely glanced up when Harry entered.

"Come look at this," he said quietly, although his voice echoed strangely against the walls, and Harry raised his eyebrows curiously as he walked over. Draco was gazing at a trophy with the initials T.R engraved on it, and Harry watched him in puzzlement.

"Who's T.R?" he asked as Malfoy traced the golden letters with his fingertips.

"T.R…Tom Rutherford…" Malfoy began, "He was a student here about thirty years ago or so, but that's not the point. He…after school, he became a death eater…" His voice faded momentarily, and he pursed his lips slightly before continuing. "There was…a job…that he was supposed to complete," Malfoy continued finally, still resting his hand on the brass. "No one knows what it was exactly, but it involved Hogwarts. It involved the students." Harry wondered which direction this was going. "The thing is…the thing is…Tom couldn't do it, whatever it was. He couldn't put the students in danger, and so he protected them, and he warned Dumbledore. He knew that he would be murdered. He knew that the Dark Lo-…that…he wouldn't be able to survive. Dumbledore was the last one who spoke to him before he left the school that night. He tried to offer Tom protection, but Tom wouldn't accept it. He…the last words he said…he looked at Dumbledore and said, 'forgive me.' He was killed a few hours later…" Malfoy looked up at Harry for the first time and his face was unreadable.

"Draco, why are you telling me this?" Harry asked softly, wracking his brain for any memory of a "Tom Rutherford." Malfoy hesitantly let his hand fall away from the trophy.

"I just wanted you to see that there are people out there who change," he mumbled quietly, looking away again, his blonde hair catching a ray of sun, and Harry felt an deep ache in his heart. He put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder, turning him so that they were facing each other.

"I know that there are people who change," Harry said, wanting nothing more than to wrap Draco up in his arms and keep him safe forever. "Plenty of people change."

Draco looked at the floor for a few seconds and then turned sharply away again, twisting defiantly away from Harry's touch. Utterly bewildered at the change in demeanor, Harry stepped back a little, wondering what he had done.

"Draco," he began cautiously, "I don't know what it is that you want me to say."

The boy's shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, as if he were breathing heavily, and he carefully turned around, placing one hand on the trophy again as if for support. There was a glint in his eyes that had not been present before…

"I want you to say that I could be someone who changes!" he said, glaring at Harry as though he had offended him in some way. "I want you to say that, because I can't say it, but you can't either, can you?" Harry's stomach lurched painfully, and he reached for Draco, but Draco scrambled away, a look of desperate pain in his eyes. "Why can't you say it, Harry? Why couldn't that be me? Why couldn't I do something like that? You don't think I'm strong enough! You don't thin-"

"Draco, stop it," Harry interrupted, reaching out to grip Malfoy's arm. He had cornered Draco against the wall. "Just stop it! I didn't say anything like that, and that's _not _what I think." Malfoy furiously tried to pull away, but Harry held fast, his throat going dry. Quite unexpectedly, Malfoy kicked Harry brutally in the shin, and Harry swore, shoving Malfoy painfully against the hard stone.

"Get away from me!" Malfoy yelled in Harry's face, attempting to kick him again, but Harry dodged the blow. "I was fine before all of this. I was FINE! You ruined me, Harry. Look at me! Look at me…"

Suddenly, without thinking, he pulled Malfoy fiercely into an embrace, tucking his head into the warm place where Draco's neck met his shoulder. He felt the tears that he had so desperately avoided begin to fall, and his chest shook with silent sobs as he finally allowed himself to feel every dangerous emotion that he had kept at arm's length. He could feel Malfoy's chest rising and falling erratically as well, and he had a half-formed thought about how strange they would look to anyone walking in…Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy crying in each other's arms.

With trembling hands, Harry lifted Draco's chin and stared into his clear, tear-moist eyes. He gently pressed his lips against Draco's forehead, feeling the soft skin that had grown hot with anger. "I…love you," he almost whispered, knowing that he truly did, and before the other boy could respond, Harry kissed him, first flicking his tongue across Draco's lower lip and then pressing more firmly, begging for entrance. Without hesitation, Draco opened his mouth and pulled Harry against him, groaning as Harry's tongue began to thrust against his own, tasting all of him, taking control. Harry knew the risks of this encounter, and he didn't care. _"Let them come," _he thought as his hands traveled up and down Draco's sides, finally slipping underneath the hem of his shirt and roaming toward his chest. _"Let them come. At least then, there'd be nothing left to hide."_

Instinct took over, and Harry's fingers found Draco's nipples, pinching them slightly before caressing them with the rough pads of his thumbs. Draco's knees buckled, and he gasped loudly, the back of his head hitting the wall with a dull crack.

"Careful, Draco," Harry said, surprised to hear the huskiness in his own voice, but Draco was beyond the point of logic or clarity. Weaving his fingers through Harry's hair, he yanked hard, forcing Harry's head back.

"Draco!" Harry sputtered indignantly, but it turned to a moan almost immediately as he felt Draco's tongue connect with his Adam's apple, licking the sensitive skin there furiously.

"Unngg," he groaned nonsensically, "God, Draco, that feels good." Malfoy continued to suck feverishly, one hand still wound through Harry's hair and the other one moving tantalizingly down his stomach. At the top of Harry's pants, Draco stopped, pulling back for a moment.

"W-why did you stop?" Harry gasped, his voice shaking with need. "Draco, please…" he trailed off, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Malfoy was drawing little circles with his fingertips on the skin of Harry's lower abdomen, staring hungrily at the obvious bulge in his jeans.

"You are…so hot," Draco said, his voice deeper than Harry had ever heard it. He felt a warm blush creep across his cheeks."I have to touch you," Draco continued, his fingers drifting ever-so-slightly lower. "Can I? Touch you?" Harry felt his cock twitch as he imagined Malfoy's hands on him.

"God, Draco," he breathed, "I might have to kill you if you don't."

It was the only encouragement Draco needed. With a strangled sound somewhere in the back of his throat, he began to fumble with Harry's fly, dragging the heel of his other hand down Harry's erection as he did so. Harry was feeling genuinely concerned that he might spontaneously combust, or at least "combust" in another manner before things had even really gotten under way, and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on his own breathing, in and out, in and out. Just as he was starting to regain a bit of composure, he felt the hot skin of Draco's hand against his boxers, and he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming right on the spot. A mere moment later, Draco had pulled him out and was gripping his bare cock gently, his thumb rubbing across the head in a way that nearly made Harry's legs collapse. "Fuck, Oh god," he hissed, surprising himself with his own language, and Draco's eyes met his.

"Harry, how did I live without this?" he asked suddenly, his face filled with wonder. "How WILL I live without this? I can't. I just…" His words faded as quickly as they had begun, and he began to stroke in earnest, his eyes growing dark and heavily-lidded with lust. Harry noticed that his other hand had drifted to his own crotch, where he was absentmindedly matching the rhythm he was using on Harry.

"Draco, let me," Harry whispered, his stomaching tightening with the desire to touch Draco as Draco was touching him. Without waiting for a response, his fingers found Draco's zipper and quickly had it undone. Within only a few seconds, he had Draco's cock in his grip, and he had never felt anything quite so appealing. The sight of it in his hand was almost too much. He groaned and had to rest his other hand temporarily on the wall to steady himself.

Draco was shaking and whispering things into the air between them, dirty things, Harry thought, although the English language was currently evading him. It seemed that his vocabulary had been reduced to a few choice words such as "god," "yes," and "fuck," (which he had never said at all until a few minutes ago) as well as a few phrases that didn't contain any real words at all.

After what could have been ten seconds or an hour, he felt Draco's muscles tense and looked up to see that his eyes were partially rolled back in his head and his breathing was ragged.

"I'm going to-fuck, Harry, I'm-"

Before he could even finish the sentence, Harry felt wet heat pulse into his hand. As his eyes traveled from Draco's pleasure-convulsed face to his throbbing cock, he came wildly, thrusting into Draco's hand with a loud cry and feeling as though he were being poured, body and soul, into whatever dome of connection surrounded them in that moment.

When the aftershocks had faded, he felt himself collapsing, and Draco followed suit. Tangled up in each other and lying in exhaustion on the cold, stone floor, the two boys listened to the sounds of their own breathing that reverberated throughout the room. Harry shivered slightly as the thin sheen of perspiration that coated his skin started to chill him, and Malfoy pulled him closer, wrapping his body around Harry's chest.

"Do you think it's bad that this happened?" Malfoy whispered into Harry's neck, "I mean…since we're both leaving tomorrow?" Harry ran his fingers softly through Draco's hair.

"No…I don't think so…"

The silence seemed almost comforting, and Harry found himself wishing that time would stop indefinitely so that they would never have to face the perils of tomorrow, or of the next day, or of the next day… 

However, knowing that time would continue as it always did, Harry gently raised himself to his elbows and looked down at Malfoy, who smiled at him in the afternoon light.

"Draco," he began, softly pushing a lock of hair from Malfoy's eyes, "Tom Rutheford…you could do what he did. You could do more than that. So much more." It was only a small sentence, only a few words, but Harry knew that it was exactly what Draco needed to hear.

He slowly placed his head back on Malfoy's chest, and after a few more minutes of silence drifted by, he heard Draco clear his throat.

"Harry," he whispered, running his fingertips down the back of Harry's neck.

"Yeah?" Harry responded with a little shiver.

"I…I love you too."


	8. To Trust or Not To Trust

The room was slowly filling up with shadow as Harry lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at the dull, white ceiling of his bedroom. His trunk lay carelessly thrown beside him on the floor, unpacked and untouched even though he had been home for nearly two days, and he was grateful that the Dursley's had left him alone for the night, because he needed the time to think.

His last conversation with Malfoy was repeating itself like a broken record in Harry's mind, and while Tom Rutherford's memory had renewed a sense of hope that Draco could change, Harry couldn't help but worry that outside influences would cause Malfoy to forget what he had said in the stillness of the Trophy Room that day.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, Malfoy crept through the shadows of a dark street, his heart pounding and his palms sweating as he stared into the night for any sign of the Death Eaters. He knew that his life would be over instantly if he was caught delivering the warning, and the chances were anything but low that the very street he was attempting to navigate was being patrolled.

_"And all for that pretentious, embarrassing, red-headed moron…"_ he thought, narrowing his eyes, but deep down he knew that he wasn't risking everything for Ron, or for any of the Weasley's, really. Ron was Harry's best friend, and even though Draco personally thought of him as a disgrace, he remembered shakily that he had once viewed Harry in a very similar way, or at least he had tried to. If anything happened to Ron, and Harry asked him if he could have prevented it, any ability to lie would fade as fast as Draco's inhibitions had under Harry's gaze.

_"I have to do something, even it's just something little, to try and stop this from happening,"_ he decided firmly, fixing his eyes on the old payphone at the end of the street that was bathed in ghostly moon-light.

Harry's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a sharp ring from his bedside table, and he groaned loudly, reaching out and fumbling for the phone in the blackness.

"'Lo?" he mumbled groggily into the receiver after he had located it and pressed it to his ear. There was silence on the other end, and Harry cleared his throat. "Hello?" he asked more clearly, curious as to who in the world would be calling the Dursley's at such a late hour, but once again there was no reciprocal greeting, and Harry sighed, starting to feel annoyed that his daydream of a certain blond-haired boy had been so rudely interrupted. "Look, if this is some kind of prank call, I really don't have the time or the patience for thi-"

"Harry? Harry…" The mystery caller had finally spoken, and Harry had to strain his ears in order to hear the quiet voice.

"Who is this?" he asked cautiously, wracking his brain for any memory of giving the Dursley's phone number to someone he knew from the wizarding world besides Mr. Weasley. 

"Harry, you have to get to Ron," the caller continued, and Harry recognized the voice with a spasm of shock deep in his stomach.

"Draco-" he began, but he was cut off.

"They can't know that we talked, Harry, they CAN'T, so hurry. I don't have much time. Get to the Weasley's. The Weasley's are in danger. It's him, Harry…do you know what I'm saying to you? He has…plans….you have to trust me. I know Ron's your best friend. Get there before midnight tonight and you might have a chance. Take him to The Leaky Cauldron. HURRY. I have to go."

Malfoy heard the unmistakable crunch of footsteps, and he turned around sharply. Tall shadows of robed individuals started to appear ominously on the black pavement, and Draco knew that the Death Eaters would round the corner at any second. Gripping the phone for one last prolonged moment, he tried to think of something profound that he could say to Harry, but he seemed to be frozen, and he could think of nothing.

There was a click, and the line went dead. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his mind was racing with confusion about what had just happened. He couldn't even imagine a situation dire enough for Malfoy to risk exposure by contacting him through the telephone at his aunt and uncle's house.

_"What on earth is happening?"_ Harry wondered in a panic, resting his head in his hands, _"and what is he playing at calling me here? ANYONE could have been listening!"  
_  
Harry mentally reviewed the ominous threat toward the Weasley family that Draco had just revealed. If Harry could only take the words at their face value, what Malfoy had said seemed fairly straightforward. Unexpected and upsetting, yes, but still clear. Voldemort was undoubtedly the "he" that Draco had been referring to, and he seemed to be planning some sort of an attack on the Weasley family that would take place at midnight. Harry pressed his palm to his forehead. It made sense. Draco was currently the newest Death Eater under the employ of Voldemort, which meant that his chances of over-hearing plans were high.

"Draco! Is that you?" The loud, severe voice cut through the darkness and Malfoy took a deep breath, gathering his composure and making sure he had an arrogant expression of indifference etched in his features to mask what he had just done.

"Yeah, it's me," he drawled, leaning casually against the phone booth to hide his wand hand, which he had concealed behind his back to perform a quick spell that might just save his life.

"What the bloody hell are you doing wandering around when you were specifically told not to move from headquarters until you received word? Who have you been talking to?"

The heavily framed man was eying the phone booth with heightening suspicion, and Malfoy distinctly saw him reach for his wand.

"This old thing? You've got to be kidding me!" Malfoy said quickly, faking a laugh. "Why on earth would I be talking to someone on a muggle phone? I just needed some fresh air. I mean, come on. It was just a quick walk, you know?" He prayed that the other man couldn't see him shaking in the moonlight. The Death Eater strode up to the phone and lifted it to his ear.

"It doesn't work anyway," he said to the others, and Malfoy let himself exhale in relief at his efficiency with charms. "But Draco, you'd better buck up. This is no time to be feeling uneasy. The Dark Lord won't be as understanding as I'm being right now, so get back to headquarters and STAY there until you're sent for. Got it?" Malfoy nodded.

Another voice in Harry's mind spoke up. _"Draco has joined Voldemort, just like his father. Don't you get it? This is a trap. This is a trap to draw you in so that Voldemort can kill you."_

_"No. Draco wouldn't do that,"_ Harry reassured himself. _"No, he wouldn't. Not after everything we've been through."  
_  
The little voice was persistent. _"You said yourself that outside influences could make him forget. Do you really think that he'll choose you over Voldemort? Or even that he HAS that choice?"  
_  
Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed and stared at the phone as if it would somehow give him the answers he needed. Malfoy had sounded sincere. The fear in his voice had seemed real, but how could Harry take the word of a boy who was now taking orders from the wizard who had killed Harry's parents and longed for the chance to kill Harry himself?

But a different feeling started to rise up in Harry's chest again. He remembered the tenderness, the truthfulness that he had felt coming from Draco when they were in the hospital wing together and the admiration in his face as he stood by Tom Rutherford's trophy, wishing he could follow the same path.

"Good," the Death Eater said without a smile. "The path you chose means that your loyalty lies with the Dark Lord, and him alone. Never forget that."

"Yes, I know" Malfoy responded dutifully, but he thought sadly, _"I never had a choice…"_

"Maybe he won't choose me," Harry said aloud into the stillness of the room, "but I choose him. I choose to have faith in something that no one else would have faith in." And besides, he knew that he could never take any sort of a chance with the Weasley's safety. Their danger was his own, and as the only wizard with a non-Death-Eater status who was aware of what might happen, it was Harry's duty to try and prevent it.

He quickly glanced over at the clock near his bed and saw with horror that the bright green digits were flashing 11:50 PM. "Bloody hell!" he said, jumping to his feet so quickly that he nearly tripped over his trunk. How had it gotten so late already? For a few seconds, he simply stared at the clock, his mind blank, but when the 50 turned suddenly to 51, he realized that he had no more time to waste. He would have to apparate, trace be damned. Quickly extracting his wand from his pocket so that he could be prepared for whatever disaster he might be arriving in the middle of, Harry shut his eyes as tightly as he could and concentrated with all of his effort on the Burrow.

_"Come on,"_ he thought desperately, rotating carefully in place. _"If there was ever a time for this to work, it's now. Come on, Harry. You CANNOT screw this up."  
_  
He knew he had successfully apparated before he even opened his eyes, because he could feel the soft rush of a breeze through his hair and the light tickle of grass against his ankles. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you," he whispered and opened his eyes to see himself standing in the garden of the Burrow, looking through a dimly lit window into what appeared to be a peaceful and undisturbed home.

Without allowing himself even a moment, however, he swiftly mounted the front steps and knocked urgently on the front door, praying that someone would hear him quickly, because time wasn't a luxury that the Weasley's currently had.

Lying on an uncomfortably hard mattress back at headquarters, Malfoy had never felt so alone. All he could hear was the steady drip of rain that had just begun to fall outside, and all he could think about was Harry…Harry, who was in very real danger right now…Harry, who he longed to hold, to touch. He let his thoughts drift dangerously, and the memories of their last meeting started to flood through his body like fire.

"Mr. Weasley!" Harry called, "Open the door, please. It's Harry!" He knocked loudly on the wood, but at that very moment, a loud clap of thunder drowned out the noise, and it started to rain.

Without being able to tear his mind from the daydream, Draco let the present circumstances slowly drift away, and in his mind he saw Harry as he had seen him in the Trophy Room, staring at him with penetrating eyes as if he wanted to unravel Draco simply by looking at him. Something had started to stir inside of him, the same thing that was stirring now… 

"Come ON!" Harry yelled forcefully, praying that he wasn't too late.

Malfoy slowly reached beneath his robe and ran his fingers down his body the way Harry had done, so passionately, so perfectly.

"Ron? ANYONE?" Harry was starting to worry that the storm was carrying away all of his attempts to get the Weasley's attention, and he quickly checked his watch. 11:55. He groaned loudly.

Malfoy groaned. He could feel himself falling away into bliss as he emulated what Harry had done to him that night, stroking himself with his eyes closed and pretending that the other boy was truly there. He could feel himself slipping over the edge.

Harry fingered his wand, trying to decide whether he should force entry, if that would be necessary, and if that would even be a possibility. But if another minute went by without a response, he knew that he would have to get inside by any means necessary. He picked up a large rock, ready to break the window. 

Oh how he wanted Harry inside of him, and how he wanted to just forget his duties to the Dark Lord that were tearing his chances with Harry to shreds, not that they were much more than shreds to begin with. He found himself briefly being jealous of even Ron, who was Harry's constant companion. Did Ron even know what he really had? Harry, so close to him, so much of the time…

"Ron?" Harry called, staring in through the rain-streaked window at the blurry figure who had just appeared. Ron looked groggy and bemused, gazing at Harry as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "Ron!" Harry yelled, "Open up! Come on! There's no time!"

For a few seconds, Ron stood frozen to the spot, as if he wasn't quite sure if he was dreaming or not, and then he hurriedly stepped up to the door and unlatched it, allowing Harry entrance.

"Thank God I made it in time," Harry said once he was inside the warmth and familiar comfort of the Burrow. Immediately, he approached his best friend, nervously glancing at his watch again. 11:57. Christ. "Ron, there's something I have to tell you, and it may be hard to believe, but I really just need you to accept that it's the truth, okay?"

Malfoy lay exhausted and spent on the bed, filled with a sudden emptiness that had drifted in to take the place of desire. What was the truth? He suddenly felt so unsure of who he was supposed to trust. Something told him that trust was about feeling safe with someone, being able to confide in someone. Well, if that was true, then there was only one person who he could truly trust, and that person was currently risking his life at the Weasleys. Draco cursed himself, suddenly almost wishing that he hadn't called at all. At least then, Harry would be safe…for a little while longer.

"I…how could that be?" Ron asked in shock, having just heard what Harry knew about the planned attack. "How could that be? My parents aren't even here. They're away for the night, a meeting with the Order. It's just me. What could You Know Who want with me?"

"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. "It could be that he thought your parents would be here. Or not. I really don't know. All I know is that we have two minutes to get out of here if what Mal-….if what…I heard is accurate…"

"And I'd like to know where exactly you DID hear this," Ron interjected. "Hang on a minute. How do I even know that you're really Harry?" Ron was backing away now. 

"Ron, it's me," Harry said desperately. "There's nothing else I can tell you that I haven't told you already, and we don't have time! The way I see it, you have two choices. You can either trust me, or you can't, but I REALLY hope that you do."

Harry realized shakily that this was precisely the obstacle he had had to overcome after Draco's phone call. 

The seconds ticked by. 

Finally, Ron nodded his head decisively and took a deep breath, reaching toward the nearby mantle and grabbing a small, gray container.

"If we have to be out of here in one minute, Floo Powder is our best bet, right? Where are we going?"

Harry smiled gratefully in thanks. "The Leaky Cauldron," he said hurriedly. "We'll grab a room there and tomorrow we can find your mum and dad." Ron nodded, and the two boys took a step toward the fireplace. Ron threw a small handful into the flames and watched as they turned a glorious green in the dimly lit room. Stepping in, he clearly called out, "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared with a small pop.

Harry took his friends place and repeated Ron's actions, hearing the Weasley's large clock strike midnight as he spun away in a cloud of smoke.

-

Harry lay in his bed at the Leaky Cauldron, impatiently listening for Ron's breathing to steady, indicating that he was asleep. Gently, he fingered the small piece of parchment that had been waiting for him when they had arrived. "Meet me behind the place where we FIRST met," the note read. "Come alone. I'll be there until morning."

Turning his head very slightly, he watched Ron in the darkness. He didn't seem to be in a deep sleep, but Harry didn't think he could wait any longer, so he slowly rose from his bed, being careful to make as little noise as possible.

The door creaked slightly as Harry opened it, and he winced, but Ron made no movement, so he slowly continued out into the hallway, feeling his heart racing.

He had had no trouble deciphering the note. He remembered their fateful first meeting in Madame Malkin's robe shop as if it had happened yesterday. Malfoy had spoken to him about the different houses at Hogwarts, and Harry remembered feeling simultaneously repelled and drawn to the strange, arrogant boy.

Now, he crept slowly and stealthily down the twisted street leading to the Madame Malkin's, not wanting to attract any unneeded attention from other late night wanderers. Draco had been taking too many risks. Harry knew that, but he couldn't push down the excitement he felt.

He saw the large sign in front of the robe shop, and he quickly slipped behind the building, holding onto the wall for sight in the total darkness.

"Draco?" he called softly, straining his eyes and hoping that the other boy hadn't given up on him. "Draco, are you there?" He thought he heard a shuffling noise and froze, taking in a shallow breath and wondering if his imagination was playing tricks on him.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, stifling the gasp that instinctively rose to his lips.

"Shhh…Harry it's me, it's just me."

Harry exhaled loudly.

"Jesus, Malfoy, you couldn't have said something? You scared the living daylights out of me. It's pitch black! Anyone could have been there."

Malfoy chuckled softly.

"The Boy who Lived, afraid of the dark? I'm disappointed."

"Yeah, well…" Harry mumbled, trying to suppress his desire to simply lunge forward and kiss the lips that were so close to his. But, there were questions that needed to be answered. "Are you planning on telling me what's going on? Or are you just going to keep pointing out my incompetencies?"

Malfoy sighed.

"I'm sure there's a lot that you want to know, Harry, but-"

"Yes, there bloody well is. In fact, I don't even think there's anything that I DO know, except that I just illegally-apparated to Ron's house where I barely convinced him to leave with me by Floo Powder in order to escape god-knows-what by midnight! Now, I have a judiciary hearing and a best friend who's going to need some serious answers in the morning."

Malfoy hung his head slightly.

"I don't HAVE any other information," he said quietly. "All I heard, Harry, was that a few Death Eaters would be 'visiting' the Burrow at midnight to take care of some business. I risked my life, my family's life, to warn you, and I'm still not out of the water yet. They know that someone is responsible, and I'm high up on the list, so please, that's all I can tell you, and I wanted to meet you here tonight so that I could be with you, because…because I don't know what's going to happen to me. Can we please just…can we please just have it be you and me right now? I just want to be with you right now, Harry. I just wan-"

Harry interrupted him by gently brushing his lips across Draco's, catching the other boy slightly off-guard. Kissing Draco into silence seemed to have become a habit of his. Draco didn't respond for a second, but then he opened his mouth against Harry's and sighed as he felt himself drift into a peaceful state of oblivion against Harry's warm body.

Harry knew that there was an inevitable discussion that would need to take place at some point, but Malfoy's vulnerability, his sincerity, told Harry that now was not the time.

He reached up to run his fingers through Draco's hair, savoring the sensation that he thought he wouldn't have been able to have again for who knows how long.

Sighing, he pulled Draco against him tightly and bent his head to leave a trail of kisses up the other boy's slender neck.

Draco moaned, pressing the palms of his hands against the small of Harry's back and then letting his fingers fall seductively just under the belt of Harry's trousers.

"I've needed this so badly," he whispered in Harry's ear, and Harry nodded into Draco's neck, nipping at the soft skin.

"Me too," he said huskily, bringing his lips back up to Draco's. "Me too."

They fell into each other and let all other thoughts melt wonderfully away until it was just the two of them, alone in the world, or perhaps even transcending above it as they pressed feverishly against each other in the darkness.

Harry had just let his hands begin to wrap themselves around Draco's belt buckle, longing to touch him again, when they were suddenly illuminated in a pure and ghostly light as the full moon shook off the heavy cloud it had been hiding behind.

Both boys stared up at the remarkable sight and Harry thought to himself that he had never seen a moon so full in his entire life. "It's beautiful," he whispered, half to himself, and Draco watched Harry's face, bathed in the glow.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he responded, his chest tight with emotion. 

The two boys were so lost in the moment that they didn't even hear the sound of approaching footsteps, and they both turned in terror when they heard a voice.

"Harry? Malfoy?" It was Ron. His face was white and twisted into an expression of hatred and confusion as he stared at his best friend in the arms of his enemy.

Harry and Malfoy stood frozen, unsure of what to do or say until Harry finally came to his senses and leapt away from Malfoy, feeling his heart sink.

"Ron, how did you even-…I can explain…Just let me explain."

"Oh, really?" Ron sputtered in outrage, "You can explain? Because I would REALLY like a bloody explanation. No, you know what? No, I wouldn't, Harry. Keep your damn explanations, because nothing you say could ever explain this."

Harry opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. All he could do was stare pathetically at his best friend.

Ron looked as if he might say something else, but after a few minutes, he simply shook his head and glared at Harry with an expression that said, _"I trusted you."_

"Ron…wait, no please…just wait…"

But Ron had already turned and was running in the opposite direction as fast as his feet could take him.

Harry groaned and stared at the place where Ron had disappeared, feeling a chill start to creep over his body. "I can't believe this…" he murmured. "I can NOT believe this…"

He turned around to Malfoy, but he was met with only darkness as the moon started to drift behind another cloud. Draco was gone.


	9. Sleeping With the Enemy (part one)

"Ron, stop being rude!" Mrs. Weasley chided, glaring at her son. "You know perfectly well that this is hard on everyone, but blaming people isn't going to make anything better, and I think we should focus on the fact that we're all alive and safe, thanks to Harry."

Ron didn't respond to this statement but slowly turned his chair away from the table so that the rest of the family was looking at his back, and Mrs. Weasley sighed in frustration. "Well then," she continued, "I assume that you no longer wish to be a part of this conversation, so you can leave until you find a way to make some serious attitude adjustments."

Ron snorted sarcastically. "Brilliant observation, mum," he said darkly and jumped up from his chair to slam into the other room, where Harry heard him collide with something and then swear loudly.

Mrs. Weasley looked away tearfully, and Harry shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say in the awkward silence. Mr. Weasley saved him the trouble.

"Harry, why don't you go talk to him," he suggested quietly. "He won't listen to us, and you're his best friend. You know this kind of behavior really isn't like him, but he's probably just dealing with the shock of what's happened."

Mr. Weasley was referring to the events that had occurred earlier that morning, which undoubtedly would have left anyone in shock, but Harry knew guiltily that Ron was upset for a very different reason. 

After reuniting with the rest of the family, Mr. Weasley had immediately investigated the threat that Harry had reported, and what he had discovered was far worse than any of them could have imagined.

Healer Brinkworth, whose portrait hung majestically on the wall of The Leaky Cauldron, was asked to visit his other portrait, which was conveniently located in the Weasley's kitchen, and he returned with the heart-breaking news that the Burrow was in ruins.

"I couldn't stay for long," he reported sadly. "My picture was nearly shattered on the floor, but what I did see is enough to tell you that the Burrow isn't the Burrow anymore. There's dark magic everywhere. I wouldn't recommend going near the place "

The Weasley's were devastated, but none more than Ron, who seemed quite willing to use the disaster as a tool to relentlessly make Harry feel guilty about the entire ordeal without even saying a single word.

"I…I, er…yes, of course I'll go talk to him…" Harry now stammered to Mr. Weasley, unsure of how to get out of the situation without making himself appear even guiltier than he already seemed. The elder Weasleys mercifully hadn't asked him about his source, but he could tell that they were suspicious. "I'll just…I'll just head in there now, and, see what I can do." He slowly rose from his seat and headed toward the other room, aware of Mr. Weasley's eyes on the back of his neck, and when he entered the sitting room, he saw Ron perched in an armchair by the window, moodily staring out at the busy street below.

He cleared his throat, and Ron looked up in annoyance.

"Go away," he snapped. "I have no interest in talking to you, or haven't you noticed?"

"How could I not?" Harry replied. "The word glacial comes to mind…"

"Then take the bloody hint, why don't you?" Ron spat, turning away again, but Harry closed the door and walked over to his friend, taking the seat next to him.

"Ron, he saved your life. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Malfoy. He really went out on a limb for you, you know."

"You've told me this already," Ron interjected. "I don't know how to make it any clearer that I don't give a damn."

Harry sighed, mentally forcing himself to remain calm.

"You're sitting here right now because of Draco Malfoy, and you know that's true. He could be killed for what he did. The Death Eaters already suspect him."

Ron smirked unpleasantly and stared at Harry with a grim expression.

"Oh, excuse me while a shed a tear," he said sarcastically. "I mean, come ON Harry. This is Malfoy we're talking out, MALFOY."

Harry kept his tone as even as he could.

"He's different now, Ron. I mean…I know better than anyone how he used to be, so shouldn't I know better than anyone what he is now?"

Ron pursed his lips together tightly and shook his head in incredulousness.

"I don't get it, Harry," he muttered. "I mean, are you gay? That doesn't even make any sense. And it's not really important. I guess. But, _Malfoy?_ What happened to your parents, Harry? To Sirius? Almost to me? NONE of them can be trusted. I thought you knew that." 

His expression was so full of disappointment that Harry almost felt stung by it, and an immense feeling of sadness rose in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't really know what I am," he responded truthfully, looking down at the floor, "and I understand why you feel like this. Believe me, I understand, but please just try to hear me out, okay? I'd do the same for you."

Ron grunted in a non-committal way, and Harry took that as permission for him to continue speaking.

"I've learned things about Malfoy that I…well, that I never thought I would ever learn, things that I never would have believed to even be possible. He's…he's…well, he's been through a lot, a lot more than we ever gave him credit for, and…everything in his life, everything you hate him for, was planned out for him since, well, since birth I guess, but in the past few months, he's shown me how much he wants to change, and you wouldn't believe how far he's come. He's not the same person. Or maybe his is. Maybe he's exactly who he's always been, only now he's finally letting himself see who that really is. I mean, Ron, you KNOW me. You know I wouldn't put everything on the line for someone I didn't trust, and I DO trust him…and, well, he's a part of my life now, but I want YOU to be a part of it too. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose my best friend."

He broke off, and Ron shifted in his chair, looking unsure of what to do or say in response. Finally he turned to Harry, and his face looked slightly softer in the afternoon light.

"Harry, I don't care that you're gay, or…something. I'm not like that. It's just that he's a Death Eater," he said. "It's in his blood. That's what he's always going to be. I know that's not who you are, so just…just tell me you'll never see him again, and I will TRY to move past this."

"No!" Harry sputtered, feeling frustrated. "Ron, listen to yourself! If he can't call Hermione a mudblood, then you can't say being a Death Eater is in _his_ blood. You are who you choose to be. That's something that I thought _you_ would know."

There was an awkward silence, and Ron couldn't seem to find a retort. He looked down at his trainers and cleared his throat, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Ron, I'm not asking for a miracle. I mean, I'm not asking you to be his friend. I'm just asking you to accept him…you know, from a distance. Can you try to do that? Can you just try?"

Ron sighed deeply.

"Harry…I can't. I can't trust him. I just…can't."

Harry felt something shatter inside of him, and he rose from his seat, knowing that he had said everything he could to change his friend's mind.

"Then…that's it, I guess," he said dejectedly. "But keep this is mind, Ron. Make sure that you're seeing the difference between what you want to be true and what actually is true. You don't like him. You don't want there to be good inside of him, because then everything you know is turned upsidown. If you were really my friend, you wouldn't be so selfish. You would at least give him a chance…for me."

He glanced once more at Ron's face and saw that it was twisted into an expression of confusion, as if he were fighting a battle in his mind.

Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it again, realizing that the ball wasn't in his court anymore, and that there was nothing left to say. He started walking toward the door.

"Harry, wait," Ron said quietly, and Harry turned, his heart speeding up a bit. "I…I've lost enough without losing you too." It looked as if it was taking every ounce of strength that he had to say those words. "I…well, I guess I can…I guess I can try."

Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"I thought you said that you couldn't believe him…that you couldn't trust him."

Ron looked up and met Harry's eyes.

"I thought you said I could."

-

"I'm extremely disappointed, Draco," Lucius said icily, glaring down at his son. "Your loyalty is faulty. I always knew you were an incompetent little fool."

Draco hung his head in humiliation.

"I will not have you ruin the reputation of this family, do you hear me? You don't deserve this, but you're getting a second chance."

Draco felt his breath catch in his throat, and fear started to creep through his body. In his world, a second chance usually ended up being less of an opportunity and more of a punishment.

"You will come with me," Lucius continued, "and you will undergo training until you learn to control your ridiculous fancies. You will not see anyone, and you will not communicate with anyone unless you have my explicit permission. You will be under constant supervision. Is that clear?"

Draco suddenly found himself having difficulty breathing. Every rational thought in his mind commanded him to nod his head obediently, but every emotion, every instinct, told him not to.

"I said, is that CLEAR, Draco," Lucius spat. "Answer me, you ungrateful, worthless, little brat."

But something curious was happening to Malfoy. He felt something inside of him snap. Slowly, he shook his head. 

"No," he whispered, his legs shaking slightly. "No."

"What was that, boy?" Lucius demanded, and Draco took a step away from his father.

"I said no," he spoke more clearly, raising his head. "For once, you listen to me. Ever since I was little, ever since you started telling me that I wasn't good enough, I wanted to please you. I wanted to make you proud. I wanted to be half the man I thought you were. Most of all, I wanted to be accepted, to feel like I belong, and now, finally, I do. The thing is that it isn't here. It isn't with you. I'm never going to BE you. I'm never going to do the things that you've done, and saying that makes me twice the man that you will ever be."

"You insolent little-" Lucius raised a hand to strike his son, but Malfoy was quicker. He whipped his hand beneath his robes and pulled out his wand, aiming it at his father.

"You wouldn't dare," Lucius sneered, but Malfoy held his gaze.

"Try me."

"You have nowhere to go, you stupid boy. You won't last five minutes before the Death Eaters find you."

Malfoy shrugged.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

Without another word, Draco turned and sprinted towards the door. Once outside, he continued to run, unsure of where he was going or what he was going to do. He simply…ran, disappearing into the darkness of the night. 


	10. Sleeping With the Enemy (part two)

_**Warning: graphic sex scene between the boys! We're talking very graphic (like it's probably not possible to be much more graphic than I was with this scene). Enjoy or skip. I highly recommend enjoying, but I'll leave that up to you! Reviews are much appreciated! I love them almost as much as chocolate cake.**_

"How's the pea soup, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, smiling at him over her cup of tea.

"Oh…er, really delicious," Harry lied, forcing himself to take another bite and wishing that the waitress hadn't convinced him it was the best thing on the menu.

"How's yours, Ron?" he asked, and Ron shrugged his shoulders noncommittally with a half-smile, his mood infinitely improved since earlier in the afternoon.

"Nice to see that you left your doom and gloom attitude behind, Ron," Mrs. Weasley said, turning to her son, and Harry chuckled, glancing at the red-head in a knowing way.

"Yeah, well, I figured since we have no home now, I'd better be nice to you lot or you'll send me packing, and then where would I go?"

Mr. Weasley smiled, but it was a tired smile, and he exchanged a glance with his wife that told Harry the conversation they had all been avoiding had finally found an opportunity to squeeze itself into the small talk.

He was right.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Speaking of which…" he begin in a falsely cheery tone, "We do need to start brainstorming about what we'll do now that…well…now that we're…in the market for somewhere to stay. I mean we certainly can't live in The Leaky Cauldron for the rest of our lives, now can we? I was thinking that tomorrow morning we can go to-"

But Harry wasn't listening. He had suddenly had an idea, a potentially wonderful and genius idea. _"How could I not have thought of this earlier?"_ he marveled to himself. Dumbledore had ensured that it did, indeed, belong to Harry, and it currently wasn't being put to any use except for the occasional meeting. It would be safe too, protected and secure, which is exactly what the Weasleys needed given their present situation. It was…the perfect solution.

"Grimwauld Place," he said out loud, and the entire family looked at him.

"What was that, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Grimwauld Place," he repeated with a smile. "I don't know why we didn't think of it before! We can all stay there. I'll be of age soon, so I'll need some place new to live other than the bloody Dursley's. It's exactly what you need, and no one's living there, so I don't see why we shouldn't put it to use, right?"

The Weasley family looked shocked at this pronouncement.

"But…Harry, we couldn't. It belongs to you now…" Mrs. Weasley said, but Harry shook his head forcefully.

"No, no. It may belong to me in name, but it's all of ours. We all used it. We all fixed it up, and besides, if I'm the only one there, it'll just slowly become ruined again. It's perfect! You all live there, help keep it in order…it's a win/win situation!"

Mr. Weasley nodded slowly and looked around the table at his wife and son.

"It does seem ideal," he admitted, "and it is a fairly large place, so we could all comfortably live together, if…well, if you're sure, Harry. I don't want you to think that you have some sort of an obligation."

Harry laughed.

"Please! It's you who'll be doing ME the favor. My choices are pretty limited, you know. I could stay with the Dursley's, I could live in Grimwauld place by myself, or I could live there with all of you. I'm leaning toward choice number three, myself."

Mrs. Weasley laughed.

"Well, when you put it that way, dear..."

"We'd love to take you up on that offer, Harry," Mr. Weasley finished, clapping Harry on the shoulder, "and we'll be eternally grateful for this, I want you to know."

"Ron?" Harry asked cheerfully, "Is that okay with you?"

Ron grinned with actual sincerity, and Harry suddenly felt very light and carefree, as though somehow everything would work out, somehow every problem would have a solution like this one.

"Oh, and before I forget, an owl came for you today," Mrs. Weasley said, handing Harry a piece of parchment across the table. "Big, tawny thing. Didn't look familiar."

Harry swallowed quickly and grabbed the letter, feeling nervously as though he already knew who had sent it. After all, who else would be writing to him right now?

He saw Ron looking at him warily, and he slowly unrolled the paper, reading the message hurriedly as he did.

He felt his insides flutter and dance in a most unpleasant yet gratifying way, and he politely excused himself, giving Ron a significant stare that said, _"Follow me."_

"What the hell?" Ron whispered when they were alone in the adjoining room. "What's going on?"

Harry swallowed again, nervously looking into his friend's eyes.

"I…er, you know when I said…when I asked you to, uh, accept Malfoy, from a distance?"

"Yes," said Ron suspiciously, "What of it?"

Harry shifted anxiously.

"Well…er…that distance might not be as far away as we thought…"

-

"God, this place is psychologically damaging," Malfoy drawled, staring at the portrait of Mrs. Black that still hung in all its glory on the wall of Grimwauld Place.

"Shh!" Harry hissed, "The Weasley's are all asleep, and they CANNOT know that you're here, well, except for Ron of course, but I'm not keen on reminding him, so keep it down, okay?"

Malfoy grinned.

"Okay, okay. I'll keep it down. I still can't believe that he knows, though. How utterly humiliating."

"Shut it," Harry said, giving Malfoy a playful shove. "You're lucky I convinced him not to murder you in your sleep. I'm not even sure I DID convince him, actually."

"Well, I'll be on my guard," Malfoy said with a smirk, "and where AM I sleeping, anyway?"

"There's a room I picked out upstairs. No one ever goes in there, because it's one of the few places that we couldn't clean, so it's filthy. We pretty much just keep the door locked at all times."

Malfoy groaned.

"Oh, goody. I can hardly contain my excitement."

"Hey," Harry retorted, "be grateful that you're here at all. Do you know what I had to go through to convince Dumbledore to write you directions? He's the Secret Keeper, so I had to assure him that we could trust you, and believe me, it wasn't easy."

"I thought you were Dumbledore's golden boy?" Malfoy teased. "He was probably tripping over himself to write the directions so he could make his prize student happy."

"Stop being such a wise ass," Harry said severely, pushing Malfoy toward the stairs. "And for your information, he apparated here to talk with me for FIVE straight hours before he agreed."

Malfoy laughed quietly.

"Well, I'm here now," he said, "and all kidding aside, Harry…I'm really grateful for this. It's been a rough one. It's a miracle I even made it through the day. I don't know if I'd even be alive right now if it wasn't for you."

Harry tenderly rested his hand on Malfoy's shoulder and smiled.

"Ladies and gents, we have a moment of humility from Draco Malfoy."

Malfoy laughed again and leaned in to lightly kiss Harry's neck.

"Don't let it get around. You'll ruin my reputation."

Harry ran his fingers through Draco's hair and savored the moment for a brief second before starting for the stairs again.

"Come on, Casanova," he teased, "bed time."

"Casa-who?"

"Yeah…never mind. Let's get a move on, shall we?"

Malfoy grinned again and followed Harry up the stairs.

"Well, it's not exactly paradise, but it'll have to do," Malfoy said, eyeing the layers of dirt and grime that coated the walls of what was now his bedroom. "At least I'll have something to occupy myself with when the Weasley's are home."

"Good luck cleaning any of THIS," Harry said darkly, and Malfoy groaned again, flopping down onto the old bed and lying back with a sigh.

"It sure beats the alternative though," he said, and Harry smiled into the darkness, suddenly feeling a wonderful swooping sensation in his stomach that Draco was here…in his house…to stay, at least for a while anyway. He wondered if it had quite sunk in yet for the other boy that THIS was home now, at least more than his father's house would ever be again…

"Draco," he said quietly. "Are you sure that you're…I mean…you're okay? You're okay with what's…happened? With your father?"

Draco didn't speak for a few moments, and Harry wondered if he had stepped out of line by bringing up the sensitive topic.

"I'll say this," Malfoy began, "and then I have to ask you to never mention my father to me again, Harry, okay? I feel cleaner and safer as I'm shut up in this disgusting room than I EVER felt in that Manor with him."

Harry nodded conclusively and felt momentarily awestruck by Malfoy's courage and strength. _"Not many people could do what he's done,"_ he thought to himself.

"Well…I'm proud of you," Harry said gently, trying not to sound patronizing. "What I mean is…I'm…I guess that _is_ what I mean…I'm just proud."

Malfoy stood up and walked slowly over to Harry, looking beautiful in the moonlight. When they were standing face to face, he reached up to touch Harry's cheek, delicately, as though he were touching glass.

"You know, Harry…" he said with a half-smile, "you could possibly be the only one in the wizarding world who believes in me, who has faith in me, and…that's enough…that's more than enough."

Harry leaned in to kiss Draco, cupping his face in one hand and running his fingers through Draco's hair with the other.

"Get some sleep, okay?"

Malfoy let his fingers drift down Harry's chest suggestively.

"Aren't you staying?" he asked in a husky whisper, and Harry groaned.

"Draco…I can't…the Weasleys…"

Malfoy was now slipping his hands beneath Harry's belt, sensually brushing the tender skin with the tips of his nails and causing Harry to shiver and lean back against the wall for support.

"I…I…can't-"

But this time it was Malfoy's turn to silence him with a kiss, leaning in and pressing his lips furiously against Harry's, crushing him against the wall with an intensity that took Harry's breath away.

"You can," he finally said after a few long, hot seconds, and Harry nodded weakly, unable to do anything other than what Draco wanted him to do, what HE wanted to do.

Malfoy brushed his lips against Harry's ear, whispering words that made Harry feel light-headed and giddy, nearly collapsing as his knees started to buckle, but Draco's body kept him in place.

"I…oh God, Draco…"

"Shhh…"

Harry suddenly felt something cool against his chest, and he looked down to see Draco's wand slowly moving down the length of his torso, unbuttoning his shirt as it went.

"Nifty little spell I picked up," Draco said in explanation, grinning at Harry, and Harry grinned back.

"I don't even want to know where you picked that one up."

Draco moved in again and pressed his bare chest against Harry's, making them both gasp with need.  
Slowly sliding down the length of the wall, Harry finally let himself rest on the cold floor, pulling Draco down on top of him and feeling a sense of uncontrollable desire ripple through his muscles like fire.

"Harry," Malfoy whispered as his fingers found Harry's nipples and twisted…hard, "Have you ever…have you ever…you know…"

Harry was so distracted by the pleasurable jolts as Draco twisted again that it took him a moment to realize what the other boy was referring to.

"Oh," he said breathily, raising himself up on his elbows. "I…I…no. No, I haven't. Have you?"

Malfoy smiled and licked his lips, gazing down at Harry. "With Pansy, yes. I know that's a little...different, but it's also not, not really. Plus, that's not all I know. I've done some research."

Harry raised his eyebrows, grinning.

"Oh, really?" he teased. "What kind of research?"

Malfoy gently shoved him back and then leaned down to press the entire length of his body against Harry's, nipping at his earlobe.

"Would you like me to tell you?" he whispered, "Or would you prefer a demonstration?"

Harry groaned, running a finger across Draco's moist lips.

"A demonstration…would be nice," he said, putting his reservations aside. Harry was high. He was flying, and his insides were several feet behind.

"That's _very _good news," Draco said, licking a stripe down Harry's throat. Faster than Harry expected, a striking snake, Draco's hand was in Harry's hair, and their mouths were fused again in a hot kiss.

Draco ran his other hand down the planes of Harry's bare stomach to fumble with his fly. "Let's get these off," he whispered against Harry's lips, his voice dripping with sex, and Harry could only nod eagerly. Not quite sure what to do but knowing that he wanted as much of Malfoy exposed as possible, he found himself reaching for Draco's fly as well, slowly unzipping him until Draco quickly stood up and finished the rest of the job, tossing his pants and boxers carelessly into a corner before lowering himself onto Harry again. Slowly, sensually, he slipped down until he was straddling Harry's calves, and then he gripped the top of Harry's jeans and pulled them down. Harry kicked them off quickly, staring hungrily at Malfoy's hard cock, and the boxers were next, joining Draco's clothes in the corner.

Now, for the first time, there was nothing between them. Just skin against skin, and Harry had never felt better. He moaned as Draco pressed up against him, his cock hard and aching. He pushed up in response, grinding into the other boy, and the friction between them was bringing him close to orgasm too fast. He whimpered against Draco's throat.

"Shh," Draco said, his hands sliding all over Harry's body. "Just relax."

Suddenly, the warmth of Draco's body was gone, and Harry murmured in protest, but in the next moment, he felt Draco's fingers on him, slipping up and down his cock hungrily. He raised himself up onto his elbows again, rewarded with the sight of Draco kneeling between his legs stroking him, his face painted with desire.

"Draco, y-you have to stop," Harry stammered, his breath ragged. "I'm going to…I can't…if you keep doing that…"

Draco didn't respond, but his hand drifted lower, pressing against a spot that reduced Harry to whimpers again. He fell back, unable to support himself anymore.

"That's it," Draco whispered, and Harry felt the pressure increase. Surprisingly, Draco's fingers were warm and slick. _"Another charm?"_ Harry wondered fleetingly, but before he could give it much thought, a finger was inside him, and he arched his back, moaning too loudly.

Draco's other hand briskly came up to cover his mouth, and, without thinking, Harry sucked two fingers between his lips, drawing them in up to the second knuckle. Draco made a low sound deep in his throat and used his other hand to push a second finger into Harry, thrusting each to the same rhythm and driving Harry wild with lust.

"…wanted you like this for so long," Draco was saying, "God…so hot. So good."

"Draco, need you…need you…in me," Harry found himself gasping as the fingers left his mouth to firmly grip his thigh. Instinctively, he knew that he was ready, and he knew that Malfoy couldn't wait much longer either, judging by the way his hands were shaking. "Please. God, please. I need you."

He felt the fingers removed from him and hated the emptiness, but when he glanced down, he saw that Draco was busy slicking his cock with that mysterious liquid that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. He didn't ask. He just watched, breathless and anxious and desperate and everything in between.

Draco lifted Harry's legs and placed himself between them, his cock lined up in position and his face only inches from Harry's.

"Tell me," he almost growled, his face glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration. "Tell me what you want. I need to hear you say it."

Harry raked his fingernails down Draco's back, forgetting to be gentle. "I want you to fuck me," he purred, and Draco threw his head back a little, another moan escaping his throat as he began to push himself in. Harry shuddered as chills broke over his skin, and his nails dug into Draco's back in a way that must have been painful. Draco's cock in his ass stretched him, filled him, forced him to hold back a scream as inch by inch entered him with each inward press.

Draco's voice in his ear reminded him to breathe. "It's okay, Harry. Take a deep breath. It's-ahh god…it's okay."

Draco was in to the hilt and had started to thrust, his cock rubbing up against something inside of Harry that made him cry out in pleasure, nearly seeing stars.

"God, yes, don't-don't stop," gasped, finding the rhythm with his hips. "God, so good…" It was too much, too intense, and Harry was losing his mind. He couldn't breathe. He could only feel, and he felt the world spinning around him. He knew he wasn't going to last.

When Draco gripped his cock and started pumping it with each inward thrust, Harry knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

"So fucking tight, Harry. So sweet-Jesus." Draco whispered as he plunged into Harry again and again.

Harry felt himself exploding before he could even wrap his mind around it enough to say something. Wave after wave broke over him, his entire body seizing up in pleasure, and he opened his eyes long enough to see Draco's face as he came mere moments later, mouth open and head thrown back like a wild animal.

As the aftershocks faded, Draco collapsed onto Harry, nipping at the nape of his neck and sighing in contentment.

"God, Harry," he said, shivering a little in the cool air. "Please don't leave me. Don't ever leave me."

Harry wrapped his arms tightly around the other boy, kissing his forehead gently.

"I'll never leave you," he promised. "Never."


	11. Dreams and Nightmares

**I sincerely hope that everyone's enjoying the story! I have so many ideas that I fear it will never come to an end. A big thank you to AchillesTheGreek for catching an error and letting me know! If anyone else spots one, don't hesitate to speak up. Anyone have any suggestions for chapters 12 and 13? Anything you'd like to see happen/not like to see happen etc.? Reviews are much appreciated. –L**

Harry awoke quite suddenly in the darkness, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

For a moment, he was unsure of what had startled him, but then he heard it again, a sharp cry from the figure curled against him.

He looked down at Malfoy, surprised to see how pale his skin looked against the black marble floor, and he saw that Draco's face was twisted into an expression of pain.

_"He must be having a nightmare,"_ Harry thought, rubbing his eyes and wondering what time it was.

He was about to reach for his shirt, which had been thrown carelessly aside the previous night, when Malfoy suddenly inhaled desperately and let out an agonizing gasp, his muscles contorting. Harry leaned over to touch his cheek.

"Draco, wake up," he whispered gently, brushing his fingers across Malfoy's forehead. "It's just a dream. Wake up."

Malfoy breathed in sharply again and then opened his eyes, looking up at Harry in confusion.

"What…w-where am I?" he asked slowly, reaching up to touch the place on his forehead where Harry's hand had been, and Harry smiled in reassurance, trying to hide the worry he felt.

"Grimmauld Place, remember?" he whispered soothingly. "It's okay, you were just having a bad dream. Everything's fine now."

Draco blinked and then quickly sat up, staring around the room intently as though half-expecting to see someone jump out of the shadows. Harry sat up as well, anxiously following Draco's gaze and reaching instinctively for his wand.

"Draco," he said in concern, "what is it?"

But the other boy let himself slump forward again, drawing in a deep, shaky breath.

"No…nothing…" he finally said in a very unconvincing tone. "Bad dream…just a bad dream."

Something about the way Draco was acting told Harry that they were definitely not just dealing with a bad dream, and he reached out to touch the other boy's shoulder, but Draco pulled away, staring at his lap and avoiding Harry's gaze.

"I…I just need-"

"It's okay," Harry interrupted, suddenly remembering what it felt like to be interrogated before having the chance to process anything. "I understand. Take as much time as you need, really, but-" he glanced quickly at his watch, "I need to go downstairs for a while, okay? The Weasley's will be looking for me. They're headed out shortly for Hogwarts, and I've got to figure out a way to give them a safety lecture without them realizing that I overheard their conversation."

He was referring to the not-so-secret mission that five Order members would be carrying out today. As he and Draco had held each other under the blankets the night before, they had talked for hours, opening up to each other in ways that Harry never could have imagined. Draco had told him about the times Lucius had abused him unforgivably, and Harry had opened up to Draco about the pressure he felt being "The Chosen One," how everyone expected him to have answers that he just didn't have.

"And now Dumbledore's sick, so I won't even have him around to give me advice for a while," he had said, nuzzling in close to the comforting warmth of Draco's body.

"Wait a minute. Dumbledore's sick?" Draco had asked in concern. "How? Is he going to be okay?"

Harry had kissed his neck a few times before responding.

"He'll be fine. I don't have all of the details, but from what I heard, he should be back to his usual self by the start of term. Until then, the Order will be taking shifts at Hogwarts. It's the safest place for him to be, but he's still pretty weak, so they want to keep an eye on him. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will be there all day tomorrow, actually, so you can come downstairs and stretch your legs a bit."

Draco had smiled and leaned in to kiss him, and all intelligent conversation had come to an end.

Now, he put a hand on Draco's shoulder and rubbed a little. "I'll be back soon though, okay? Try to relax. I understand all about bad dreams, Draco, but just try to take some deep breaths. No one can get to you here. You're safe."

Malfoy nodded mutely, and Harry got up to dress.

"Also, Draco…" he said with a little smile. "Last night was…well, it was amazing. I just-I just wanted you to know, in case you didn't, or…you know…" He was rambling.

But Draco looked over at him with a genuine smile, resting back on his elbows and seeming to calm down a bit.

"Harry, it was the best night of my life" he said, his eyes full of something deep and wondrous. "Don't-don't worry about me. Go. I'll be fine. Bring me up some toast or something?"

"Sure," Harry said with a grin, turning toward the door.

"Breakfast, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked cheerfully, brandishing a bit of toast in front of his face, and Harry accepted gratefully.

"Thanks," he said, taking a bite. "Did you all sleep well?"

"Oh, wonderfully," Mrs. Weasley responded, "but I think we may have a ghoul in one of the upstairs rooms, because I heard strange noises a few times. I'll have Arthur check it out later."

Harry felt color slowly rising to his cheeks, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

"Oh no, er, I mean don't bother…I'll save him the trouble."

"Alright, dear," Mrs. Weasley said distractedly, clearing away the dishes with a flick of her wand. "I'm afraid I need to rush out, though. Arthur and I have a few…meetings to attend to." Harry tried to arrange his features into an innocent expression that wouldn't reveal the fact that he had been eavesdropping. "Can you and Ron entertain yourselves for the day?"

Harry nodded fervently.

"Sure! No problem. You go ahead."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at him before reaching for her coat.

"Well, you two behave yourselves, and we'll be home sometime this evening."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," Harry assured her, "We'll behave ourselves, and…just…be careful. Don't-I mean…just be careful. Please."

-

"So, is he here?" Ron grunted, looking as though he'd rather not know the answer, and Harry took his time adjusting his glasses before saying, "who?" in a vague tone, even though he knew perfectly well who Ron was referring to.

"Merlin. NO, you prat, Malfoy! Who do you think?"

Harry shifted nervously.

"Yes, he's here," he admitted, becoming extremely interested in a small bit of dust on the floor and wondering if Ron had heard the same…strange...noises that Mrs. Weasley had. "Got here last night, after you all were asleep. I was going to invite him down…if you can refrain from murdering him, that is."

"I can't promise anything," Ron muttered darkly, and Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"You promised you'd cooperate," he reminded the red-head sternly. "This isn't easy for him either, you know. I mean, just because Lucius isn't nominated for father of the year-" Ron snorted loudly, but Harry pretended not to notice, "that _doesn't_ mean that it wasn't hard for Draco to leave…"

"Draco," Ron said moodily, "I can't get used to you calling him that. It's just…ugh, it's just creepy."

"Ron," Harry began in annoyance, but Ron cut him off.

"Harry, it's just that…none of this is supposed to be happening. I'm sorry, but I swear it's messing with my head. I mean, it's all backwards now! Don't you ever think about that?"

Harry sighed.

"No," he said truthfully, "what I think about, which is a damn site more helpful than what you think, I might add, is that it was backwards before, and now it's how it's supposed to be."

There was a small moment of silence before Ron grunted in a non-committal way and shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine, but don't blame me if it's awkward as all hell, Harry, because it definitely will be."

"Don't worry! It'll be fine," Harry said with a smile, heading toward the stairs to fetch Malfoy and sincerely hoping that he was right.

-

He wasn't.

"Well, this is awkward," Harry admitted bluntly about an hour and a half later, desperately trying to break the silence that hung like fog over the three of them.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Ron mumbled with a small shake of his head, and Malfoy threw Harry a glance that said quite clearly, _"Stop trying to fix an unfixable situation."_

Harry glared resolutely back at Malfoy and narrowed his eyes threateningly.

_"Talk!"_ he mouthed, _"Or else!"_

Malfoy rolled his eyes stubbornly, but under Harry's mutinous stare, he finally turned his chair toward Ron, the loud scraping sound seeming to echo against the walls.

_"That's better,"_ Harry thought to himself. _"I refuse to play baby-sitter for the rest of my bloody life."_

"So, Ronald," Malfoy began with a slight smirk, "this just really hasn't been your week, huh?"

"DRACO!" Harry interjected angrily, watching Ron's expression morph into outrage. "That is NOT what I meant! Can't you at least pretend to be polite for five seconds?"

"Yes, dear," Malfoy said in a simpering voice, and Ron glared at him in disgust.

"BOTH of you!" Harry growled, feeling his frustration growing. "You're stuck with each other, so you'd better start making the best of it, because I'm already sick and tired of being the one who-"

He suddenly paused, holding his breath and straining his ears against the sound of his heart speeding up perceptively.

"Harry, wha-"

"Shh!" he hissed urgently, staring down the hallway to his left. Had he been imagining it? He couldn't have been.

Then, just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he saw the doorknob start to turn, and his blood turned to ice beneath his skin.

"Hide!" he whispered desperately to Malfoy. "Hide! Quick! Someone's here!"

-

"Mum! Dad!" Ron exclaimed in a high-pitched voice as his parents came striding into the room, and both boys heard the soft click of the closet door that Malfoy had barely managed to leap behind after Harry's warning.

"Sorry if we startled you," Mr. Weasley said, arranging himself stiffly in the nearest chair.

"Startled?" Harry said, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, "No, er, no not-not at all. Why, um, are you home so early? I thought you said you'd be out all day?"

Mr. Weasley reached for a mug of tea that lay untouched on the table and took a long sip.

"We did…we did…" he said slowly, exchanging a worried glance with Mrs. Weasley. 

"Dad," Ron began cautiously, "What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Mr. Weasley took another sip of tea and then stood up to face the fireplace, looking unsure of how to answer his son, and Harry felt his throat clench unpleasantly. This wasn't normal. Something was wrong. He was sure of it. Something had gone very wrong.

His pulse quickened as he wondered if someone had been killed…Lupin perhaps, or another member of the Order.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley continued, breaking Harry from his morose reverie, "there's been an attack on Hogwarts."

Harry sat straight up at looked at the Weasley's in shock, his fears confirmed.

"What?" he gaped, "How? No no no….Please, no. Is everyone alright? Tell me that no one was killed." He felt like he might pass out. How could this have happened? He was so sure that they would have taken all of the necessary precautions.

All three Weasleys were looking at him in surprise.

"Harry, how did you even know-…" Mr. Weasley began before trailing off as he put the pieces together. "Never mind. I…we…no one was killed, so just take a deep breath, okay?"

Harry's chest filled with relief at the news, and he slowly leaned back in his chair again.

"So, what happened, then?" he asked. "Was anyone even there?"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a significant glance again, and Harry felt his fear returning. What now?

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat nervously.

"Dumbledore was…there, at Hogwarts, when it…happened. We were on our way to join him, which it seems you may already know, Harry, but," he paused for a split second before continuing. "But…by the time we got there, he was gone. He's been…taken, taken by You Know Who."

Harry felt a profound sense of panic rising in his throat.

"How do you know that he was taken?" he questioned, clinging to the faintest glimmer of hope. "Maybe he just…left."

Mr. Weasley sighed unhappily.

"We apprehended a Death Eater at the scene of…at…Hogwarts," she said, crossing her arms and looking down at the floor. "It was Nott. Why he was left behind we haven't the slightest idea, but he came back to the ministry with us willingly. It was the strangest thing."

She smoothed her robe nervously.

"He was more than willing to talk, which was a first, but he was given Veritaserum just in case, and it only took a minute for him to start giving up everything he knew, which wasn't much, unfortunately. He did tell us that You-Know-Who was there himself to apprehend Dumbledore, that Dumbledore had been taken to an unknown secure location but not killed, and that You Know Who was…he was…well, he was operating under the intel of…of…Draco Malfoy."

Harry quite literally stopped breathing. Bile rushed into his throat.

"How exactly do you mean?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowing icily, and Harry felt his insides begin to shrink. _"No, no, no,"_ he thought with every ounce of his strength. _"Not this. Anything but this."_

"Well, to be honest, we haven't the foggiest," sighed Mr. Weasley in exhaustion. "No one knew about any of this. No one. No one except for the five of us who were going and, well, I guess you, Harry. How Draco Malfoy could have found out is beyond me. It just doesn't make any sense."

Harry's hands were balled into tight fists, his nails cutting into his own skin.

"How long ago?" he said between gritted teeth. "Did Nott say when this 'news' was delivered to Voldemort?"

Everyone in the room cringed instinctually at the name.

"It was just this morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, her expression confused. "Just…very early this morning, from what we can gather. Why?"

Harry couldn't answer. He couldn't think. He couldn't…he couldn't. He turned to look at the closet where Draco had hidden himself. The door was ajar. He must have found a moment to sneak away during the conversion. _"What did you do, Draco?" _Harry thought bitterly. _"How could you do this? After everything?"_

"Excuse me," he mumbled, rising from his chair. "I have to go…check on something. I'll be right back." He didn't wait for a response.

He had just reached the bottom of the stairs when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around slowly. It was Ron, and Harry had never seen him so angry.

"Are you happy now, Harry?" he spat, his face contorted. "You didn't listen to me, and now Dumbledore is gone. It's your fault. IT'S YOUR FAULT." He had yelled the last three words, and Harry started, taking a step backward.

"I-I know. Please, Ron. Just-"

"No more justs," Ron hissed, "You really screwed up, Harry. How could you tell him that? What's wrong with you? He was a dead man walking for god's sake. How could you think that he wouldn't offer up that that information to Voldemort to spare his own life? Jesus, Harry."

"I don't know…It wasn't like that," Harry whispered, tears suddenly expanding in his eyes. "I trusted him. I thought-…" He couldn't finish. The words wouldn't come.

Ron's face softened almost imperceptivity, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Five minutes, Harry," he said, more quietly this time. "Five minutes to get yourself together, and then you're telling Mum and Dad everything."

Harry knew, of course, that Ron was right.

"Okay," he said, his shoulders shaking in the hazy light of the stairwell. "Just let me go to his room. He won't be there, I know, but I just have to. I have to see. This just doesn't make any sense. I don't understand."

"Harry," Ron said with a grimace, "Malfoy is a soulless Death Eater just like the rest of them who ultimately has his own back and no one else's. I know what you must be feeling, but get over it. You have to find a way to make this right."

With that, Ron turned and headed back to the kitchen, and Harry mounted the stairs three at a time, finally getting to the top and bursting into the third door on the left.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw Draco sitting silhouetted against the window, his eyes fixed on Harry. His shoulders were hunched and he looked defeated.

"Come to turn me in?" he asked, making no move to escape, and suddenly, all of Harry's shock turned into red-hot anger.

He lunged at Draco, knocking him to the floor with a sharp crack and straddling his chest. He ripped his wand from his pocket and pressed it into Draco's exposed throat in a way that must have been painful.

"I trusted you," he growled, letting go of his wand and punching Draco hard in the cheek. "I trusted you, and you betrayed me! You told him about Dumbledore. How could you?" He was yelling now, and he knew that everyone downstairs could hear, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. His next punch landed right next to Draco's eye, and the other boy winced but made no attempt to move. "Why aren't you fighting back?" he screamed, punching Draco for a third time in the mouth and drawing blood. "Answer me! Tell me why, damn it. Tell me! I loved you! Fuck you, Draco! Fuck-…" his words died on his lips and he collapsed on top of Draco, no strength left in him, his chest heaving and tears rushing from his eyes.

He found himself suddenly wrapped up in Draco's arms, and he wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, to just…drift away…but, _no, _he reminded himself, scrambling away from the other boy. Not after what he did. Not ever again.

Draco remained absolutely still and inexplicable for an extended moment before sitting up, his heavily-bruised face leaving a sick feeling in Harry's gut.

"I wanted to get rid of my past, Harry," he said suddenly, desperation thick in his voice. "I wanted nothing more than that. I hated it. I _hate_ it. But, just because I was through with it didn't mean it was through with me."

"_God damn Malfoy and his cryptic crap," _Harry thought angrily, and out loud, he found himself saying, "Spit it out, Malfoy. Come on. You just sold out the only wizard who ever had a chance against Voldemort, the only wizard who could have helped me defeat him, and now you've sentenced us both to death, so spit it out. Don't try to sugarcoat it. Tell me what you did."

Draco suddenly looked angry, which came as a surprise, and when he began to talk, his voice was harder than Harry had heard it in quite some time.

"Do you _really _still not get it?" he hissed. "Potter, Potter, with his never-faltering moral compass and his idea that the world gives a flying fuck about noble intentions. It's not like that! Not unless you're Harry Potter, The Chosen One, the golden boy, the underdog hero. I mean, Jesus! Everything always works out for you, doesn't it? Everyone _wants _you to succeed. Fuck, Harry…"

Harry rose to his feet, glaring down at Malfoy.

"Then why don't you tell me about it, Malfoy," he spat, "Tell me how it is. Tell me what could have possibly happened in the last six hours that 'forced' you to betray the one person who really loved you, who would have done anything for you? Tell me why you're doing this."

"I'm not DOING anything, Harry," cried Malfoy, suddenly cupping his face in his hands and starting to cry. "I'm not…I'm not doing anything."

"Don't give me that," Harry retorted. "Tell me the truth."

"I'm telling you the truth. I should have known that you wouldn't believe me. Just do it. Take me in. It's for the best, anyway. But, Harry, you've got it all wrong. All wrong."

"Then, tell me! Just tell me, Draco. What are you trying to say?"

There was a long pause.

"He's in my head, Harry," Draco finally whispered, his words barely audible, as if he were afraid to say them out loud. "He's in my head. It started last night, when I was sleeping, and then…all day today. I didn't tell you, because I didn't know yet if it was even real. I didn't want to upset you, and most of all, I didn't want you to shut me out, not after we had come so far, but now I see that it's the only way. He's been showing me things, making me feel things…that I can't control. He takes things too, my thoughts…anything…anything he wants, and I don't _do_ anything! It wouldn't make a damn difference if I did. He knows we're here, Harry. He knows everything you've ever told me. He knows everything. He can't get to us…yet…but he knows. So, please, you have to stay away from me, everyone does, but especially you."

He finished with a soft sob, and Harry felt his heart shattering. How could he have been so awful? How could he have jumped to the worst case scenario like that? How come he hadn't considered the fact that Voldemort might try something like this? He looked down at Draco's broken face and fell to his knees, reaching for the other boy.

"No, H-Harry, don't touch me," Draco cried, pulling away. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco fiercely, pressing his face into the side of Draco's neck. "God, Draco," he whispered. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Draco stopped resisting and cupped Harry's face, his eyes moist and clear. "You're the life of my life, Harry," he said, leaning in to kiss Harry's lips for the briefest of moments before pulling away, "but you're _not _safe with me. I-I…you should…go, while I pack up my things."

"Don't be an idiot, Draco," Harry said with a little smile. "I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you. We WILL figure this out. Together."

Suddenly they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and they both spun around to see all three Weasleys standing in the open door watching them.

Mr. Weasley took a few steps forward, looking at them both with an unreadable expression.

"It looks like we all have _a lot _to talk about," he said.


	12. The Abyss (part one)

"_**He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." **__**Friedrich Nietzsche**_

"None of you are safe here anymore, and it's all because of me," Draco sighed into his hands, slumping forward against the table.

Everyone had gathered in the kitchen, and after giving Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a (mostly) thorough rundown of the events that had transpired since the end of the term, Harry and Draco were now trying to come up with possible solutions for their current problem.

Draco seemed to think that the only option was for him to turn himself in, but Harry was determined to prevent that from happening.

"Draco," he said, reaching out to put his hand on the other boy's shoulder, "this is not the end of the world, I promise. There are ways that we can deal with this, and we're still safe here. If there's one thing I know, it's that Dumbledore would never give us up. Never."

Draco turned away.

"That's not all I'm worried about, Harry," he said, sighing again heavily. "You don't know what it's like…having him in there. It's…I don't even know where my thoughts end and his begin. What if he can make me do things? What if I hurt you? What if I hurt any of you?" He trailed off, and Harry exchanged a significant glance with the elder Weasleys, who had been remarkably understanding (albeit a bit shocked) throughout the entire afternoon.

"Actually, I do…know what it's like," Harry admitted, and Draco raised his head. "I…I've been through exactly what you're going through, Draco. I still go through it, actually, but it's much better now. Trust me, you just have to learn how to fight it."

"I don't understand," Draco said slowly, staring at Harry with wide eyes. "You? The Dark Lo-…Voldemort…he's been in your head, too? How? For me, it's because of the Dark Mark, but you?"

Harry shifted in his seat.

"Well, he, ah, we…we're connected…because of the curse," he said, lightly touching his scar. "When I'm not in control, I can see his thoughts, and he can see mine."

Draco continued to gape unabashedly, and Harry continued.

"You need to learn Occlumency, Draco. It's the only way. There's no better teacher than Snape, as much as I hate to admit that. When can we get him here?" he asked, turning his attention to Mr. Weasley, but Draco leapt from his chair in a panic.

"NO!" he almost yelled, taking a few steps back. "My god, does Snape know about this place? He's a Death Eater, Harry! I've seen him! He'll kill us all!"

Harry jumped up and rushed over to Draco, kicking himself for not explaining things first.

"Draco, don't worry," he said in reassurance, guiding the boy back to his seat. "He's a double agent. He's on our side. I promise you. I'm so sorry. I should have known that you'd react that way."

Draco didn't look at all convinced.

"No, he's a Death Eater," he said, looking around the table anxiously. "I've seen what he's done. He's playing you all. Don't bring him here. Please."

Mrs. Weasley's face shone with concern.

"We won't. Not…not yet," she said, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. "It's okay, Draco. I understand how you must feel. We'll find another way."

Harry opened and closed his mouth silently, looking at Mrs. Weasley in confusion.

"Mrs. Weasley," he said, his voice a notch higher than usual, "We _have _to bring Snape here. He's the only one who can teach Draco. There's no other way. Unless someone at this table feels up to the challenge? Do any of you know Occlumency well enough?"

There was a small moment of silence before Ron spoke up from the corner. He'd been so quiet that Harry had almost forgotten he was there.

"Well, _you _do, mate," the red-head said with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Don't you?"

Now it was Harry's turn to gape.

"What? No. I mean yes, but no. I'm not…I couldn't…I can barely do it myself half the time! It has to be Snape."

Draco was shaking his head vehemently.

"No, Harry, I won't do it. I'm sorry. Not from him. I won't let him near me, and I _definitely _won't let him near you. You said that you can control it now…that it's better for you. You can teach me. I know you can."

"Harry, it's worth a shot, isn't it?" Mr. Weasley asked, and Mrs. Weasley nodded her head.

"We know that you're a good teacher. You just have to believe in yourself. And besides, right now, it's the best option we've got."

Harry sighed, holding his head in his hands for a moment.

"Alright, I'll do it," he said, and Draco's face lit up with relief, "BUT," he continued before anyone could speak, "only if you promise me something, Draco."

Draco's face clouded over again.

"I…I…what is it?"

"You have to promise me that if we don't have some kind of success within the next few days, you'll let Snape help you. You have to trust me, okay? Just…trust me."

Draco looked extremely doubtful and more than a little frightened, but to everyone's surprise, he nodded his head slowly.

"I'll think about it," he said quietly, "and I _do _trust you. It's just that Snape is smart. I don't understand how you can be sure that he's playing for the good side."

Harry smiled a little, reaching for Draco's hand under the table.

"Because Dumbledore's sure," he said, "and if we can't believe Dumbledore, than who _can _we believe?"

Draco didn't say anything, but he did seem to relax a little, and Harry leaned across the table to address Mr. and Mrs. Weasley again.

"What _are_ we going to do about Dumbledore?" he asked, the words catching in his throat as he imagined the kind of horrors that the headmaster was surely being subjected to. "We have to find him. We _have _to."

Mrs. Weasley grasped Harry's other hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"We've got the whole Order working on it, dear," she said. "Right now, you need to focus on Draco. It's the only thing that you have any power over. Let us handle the rest for the time being."

Harry looked into her eyes and nodded, knowing that she was right.

"Well, there's no time like the present, I suppose," he said abruptly, rising to his feet. "We might as well get started. With me in the lead, it's not going to be easy."

Draco stood slowly from his chair.

"Yeah," he mumbled, clearly still shaken. "Yeah, I suppose we'd better."

The two boys turned to leave the room, but Mrs. Weasley grabbed hold of Harry's arm, stopping him in place.

"Harry, could I have a quick word?" she asked, locking eyes with him. "Alone?"

He raised his eyebrows, glancing at Draco.

"Ah, sure, Mrs. Weasley," he said with a forced smile. "Draco, you go ahead. I'll meet you upstairs."

The other boy looked at the two of them with curiosity but grudgingly left the room, heading for the stairs. Ron and Mr. Weasley stood as well, making a show of finding reasons to exit until Harry was alone with Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen.

"What's this about, Mrs. Weasley?" he asked, his stomach curling as though he already knew the answer, and she motioned for him to sit.

"Harry, I'm sure you must know that I love you like one of my own children, and I feel…well, I feel like a mother to you."

Harry nodded.

"I know," he said with a genuine smile this time despite the trepidation he felt inside.

"Good," she said, taking a long sip from her cup of what must have been very cold tea. "You see, we've discussed just about everything this afternoon, except for the fact that-" She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Except for the fact that you and Draco are…well, you're…" she trailed off as though unable to find the right words, and Harry jumped to her rescue.

"You don't have to say it, Mrs. Weasley," he said, his cheeks burning. "I-I know…I know that it's probably very strange for all of you, and, believe me, it's strange for me too. I never expected-…I never even knew that I was-"

This time, it Mrs. Weasley who came to _his_ rescue.

"Harry, we love you," she interrupted, reaching for his hand again. "We'll always love you. No matter what. It doesn't matter to us. And, if you love Draco, we'll love him too, even if it might take a little while to fully…adapt…to the idea." She was looking pointedly at the spot where Ron had just been sitting. "He'll come around," she said. "I know he will. He just needs some time. And I want you to know that I'm here for you if you ever want to talk about this. I'm not trying to pressure you, but I'm here for you. Any time."

Harry squeezed her hand.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said, feeling a rush of warmth flood his chest. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Crash and burn," she joked, giving him a warm smile. "In all seriousness, though, there's one last thing that we need to talk about. You boys, well, you will _not _be sharing a bedroom, even with everything out in the open. You may be The Chosen One and I may not be your real mother, but you're still a teenager, and I know what teenagers get up to without the proper guidance, so don't let me catch you two having any sleepovers, alright?"

Harry blushed again, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. He wondered briefly if he should tell her that he and Draco had already done the very thing that she was trying to prevent, but he decided that no, he definitely shouldn't, and settled for nodding in a way that he hoped didn't make him look him guilty. He knew that a tiny thing like separate bedrooms wouldn't stop him from making Draco feel what he had felt the night before. _"God, I want to fuck him,"_ he found himself thinking before remembering that now was _not _the time to get an erection. There were bigger things to deal with…at least for a little while.

"Er, yes, y-yes, of course," he mumbled, half-rising from his chair. "I should probably go for now, though. Draco's waiting for me, and we have a lot of work to do."

Mrs. Weasley let go of his hand and stood up herself.

"Absolutely. You go. And thank you, Harry, for talking to me," she said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "I'll give you two a holler around dinner time, alright?"

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," he said, throwing her a last smile before heading toward the door. "We'll be very hungry…I'm sure."


	13. The Abyss (part two)

"I can't do this," Draco said miserably, dropping to his knees on the floor of the bedroom. "I need a break."

Harry sighed, feeling Draco's pain but also knowing that they couldn't stop. Not yet. They'd barely been practicing for two hours, and Draco had yet to make any kind of progress.

"Draco, I know how hard this is," he said gently, crossing the room to put his hand on the other boy's shoulder. "I know. But…we need to keep trying. You need to focus on clearing your mind. That's the first step, alright? Without that, we can't move forward."

"Harry, I understand, but I'm just so tired. I barely slept last night, and I just-…I just feel like I have no control over myself right now. I _am_ trying, but I don't know how to have an empty mind, especially now! I can't get him out of my head. I just keep seeing his face over and over again. It's driving me insane." He broke off, shivering perceptively in the sinking light of the late afternoon.

Harry crouched down so that he was face to face with Draco and tried to portray a sense of calm that he didn't feel on the inside.

"Okay, how about this?" he said, his voice soothing, "How about you start by just trying to think about something else, something…peaceful…and safe…Try to focus on a memory that makes you feel happy, alright? A memory that makes you feel strong. Whatever it is. Maybe it can be a place or something nice from your childhood. Just something simple. Anything."

Draco looked up at Harry, nodding slowly.

"I can…try…to do that," he said quietly, and Harry smiled, rising to his feet again.

"So, this time," he said, holding his wand ready, "when I penetrate, try to pull us back to the memory you've chosen. It won't be easy, especially with me in there, but I _know _you can do it, and after this, we'll take a break for a little while, alright?"

Draco nodded again, looking a little sick to his stomach, and Harry forced himself to swallow his own spinning emotions.

"Legilimens!" he said forcefully, pointing his wand at Draco, and he was in.

Darkness pulled at him, darkness and pain, and he pushed even further, hearing Draco's cries but not relenting. Going easy on him wasn't going to do him any favors. Harry knew that. He knew that he had to keep going.

Suddenly, a familiar pale-faced vision filled his senses, the same one he had seen in Draco's mind on and off for the last two hours…Voldemort. He felt his stomach flip over as he heard the sickly laughter begin. _"You can't push me out, Draco, you insolent little fool,"_ Voldemort was hissing, and Draco began to shake, leaning against the wall for support. _"You can't hide from me. You're nothing without me."_ Images of the Death Eaters were now flashing through Draco's mind, and then…Draco himself, twisting and curling on the ground…screaming in pain. This was new.

"It's not REAL, Draco," Harry found himself yelling, trying to get through to the other boy. "FIGHT IT. You have to fight it! I believe in you. You're strong enough to beat this!"

"_He's wrong, Draco, and we both know it. You're not strong enough. You never have been, and you never will be. You're weak, and you'll give yourself to me, begging for death, before the end. You know that he doesn't really love you. How could he? Look at yourself. And look at him."_

Voldemort's voice was grating, like fingernails on a chalkboard, and then Harry saw himself, mangled and broken at Lucius's feet. Draco screamed.

Harry prepared to pull out, unable to stand anymore, but before he could, he heard a small whisper from Draco, so quiet in comparison to the scream that for the briefest of moments, he wondered if he had imagined it.

"You're wrong."

Harry felt his heart speed up, but he remained silent, his wand still held out in front of him connecting him to Draco's thoughts. Could it be?

"You're wrong!" Draco said again, only this time with a louder, stronger voice, and Voldemort's image began to falter, flickering like a dying street lamp in Draco's mind.

"My god, Draco, you're doing it!" Harry cried, his entire body shaking. "You're pushing him out! Keep going! Bring us to your memory, the one you chose. These are YOUR thoughts, not his. Take back control!"

Before Harry had even finished speaking, the corners of the blackness started to glow, as if something on the other side was struggling to get through. The ethereal light expanded and began to break through piece by piece, dancing through the shadows of the vision, dissolving the darkness, erasing Voldemort and his Death Eaters, crumbling the entire scene like fire to paper.

And then, quite suddenly, Harry saw himself again. He saw himself, only this time he was…beautiful. His face looked down from the sky like a wild sun, and his eyes were twinkling as though they each contained a universe. When he smiled, the world around him lit up with music, and Harry could only watch…in awe of what he was witnessing.

Without even quite realizing what he was doing, he lowered his wand, breaking the connection, and for a moment, he was lost, once again alone with his own thoughts.

He looked up, slowly meeting Draco's eyes.

"D-Draco," he stammered, unsure of what to say, "that was-…that was…"

"That's what I see when I look at you, Harry," Draco said softly, clasping his hands together nervously. "In a way, I always have. You-…you're the thing that makes me feel safe…the thing that makes me feel happy. Loving you is what makes me strong."

For an extended moment, Harry couldn't even speak, and then he crossed the room in three strides, colliding with Draco like a supernova, pressing his mouth to the other boy's with a fervor that he had never known before. It was as if Draco contained the world's supply of oxygen and Harry had only just realized how badly he needed to breathe. His hands roamed everywhere, cupping Draco's cheeks, sliding down the back of his neck, and finally coming to rest on his hips, yanking the other boy against him as if they couldn't possibly get close enough.

"Fuck," he mumbled against Draco's lips, panting a little from the severity of the kiss, "I just…I love you so much. I love you…_so _much. How can I ever tell you…_show _you…like you just showed me?"

"I already know," Draco whispered, threading his hands through Harry's hair and covering Harry's mouth with his own again.

Harry groaned, his hands finding Draco's chest. He slid them up and down over the fabric of the other boy's shirt, pausing over Draco's nipples to roughly pinch them between his thumb and his index finger, too feverish to focus on being gentle.

"God," Draco moaned, grinding his hips into Harry's. The moist heat of Draco's mouth was making every nerve in Harry's body stand at attention. Together, they were unstoppable…a force of nature. He finally understood. Side by side, they could stand up to anything that the world could throw at them.

He let his fingers dance down Draco's torso until he reached the front of the other boy's pants, ghosting his nails over Draco's obvious erection.

Draco shivered, prodding Harry's lips with his tongue, slipping inside, tasting him…learning him.

The hard cock pressed against his own twitched. Flesh only separated by thin boxers and trousers. Draco bucked against him and Harry licked his ear, letting his tongue slide along the outer shell. Draco was panting now, making whining little noises mixed in with low grunts. "Harry," Draco whispered. "Harry, you're torturing me. I need you. Especially after what we've been through today…"

"Mmmm, I know," Harry murmured in response, now rubbing Draco more seriously through the layer of fabric. He leaned in so that his mouth rested on Draco's ear.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," he whispered, edging Draco slowly toward the bed. "I'm going to fuck you until you-"

"Harry! Draco! Dinner in five!"

The two boys froze at the sound of Mrs. Weasley's voice, which had clearly been magically magnified to travel throughout the large house.

"DAMMIT," Draco cursed almost immediately, flinging himself dramatically across the mattress. "I can't believe this…I really can't…just…kill me now, Harry, if we're never going to be able to fuck again without the _Weasley's _interfering at every turn. With everything going on, I had _almost _forgotten that they were even here."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco's sudden return to his old attitude.

"Be nice," he said with a little smirk. "You've been mentally battling Voldemort all afternoon, and _this _is your breaking point?" he joked, his tongue snaking out to moisten his lips suggestively.

Draco just glared.

"Stop that," he grumbled. "You're making it _much _worse."

Harry laughed again, leaning over the bed to give Draco a smoldering kiss before pulling back with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, Draco," he said, "Draco, Draco, Draco…if you think that I'm not sneaking in here immediately after everyone's asleep, you are quite mistaken. But, for _now, _get up and let's go eat. I'm fairly sure that I saw the ingredients for Mrs. Weasley's sweet potato pie on the kitchen counter, and trust me, that's not something you want to miss."

Draco grinned wickedly and hopped up from the bed, and Harry was more than a little pleased to see his lover in good spirits, considering the long road that still lay ahead.

"Alright, _stud,_ let's eat," Draco said, giving Harry a playful shove. "You'd better have two helpings. I wouldn't want you falling asleep on me later."

Harry let his eyes drift down to Draco's ass, admiring it in the dim light.

"I don't think that's something you ever have to worry about," he said, feeling his cock twitch again in anticipation.

As the two headed for the door, Draco suddenly stopped, regarding Harry with a different kind of expression.

"Harry," he said slowly, his tone more serious. "I just…I just wanted to say thank you. Again. For everything. I know that I, well, I come with a lot of baggage, and you-"

"Draco," Harry interrupted, lightly kissing the other boy on his forehead. "I love you. I'll always love you. You don't have to worry about that, and as for…everything else…we're going to beat this. I promise you we are. I don't know how, but we will. We'll do it together."

Draco nodded his head slowly.

"I actually think you're right," he said, grabbing Harry's hand and giving it a squeeze. "We're going to come out on top, you and me. And I'm going to take you around the world. There are so many places that I want to show you…when I'm free. Going with my family was one thing. Going with someone who I care about? Who I love? That will be something else entirely. Do you want to? See the world with me?"

Harry smiled, turning away slightly so that Draco wouldn't see the tears that momentarily welled up in his eyes.

"Of course I do," he said, all the while knowing that as long as Voldemort lived, Draco's entire world would exist between the walls of Grimwauld Place.

"_We'll just have to take things one day at a time,"_ Harry thought as he and Draco headed for the stairs. _Just one day at a time. As long as we have each other, we'll be okay_."

And looking into Draco's eyes, full of hope…full of love…he knew that somehow, they really would be.

Author's note: Enjoying the story? Not enjoying the story? Have any suggestions, ideas, or just general thoughts? Please let me know! A super big thank you to jcane, foxygirl98, AchillesTheGeek, Mashkai30, Heart Prayer, and an anonymous guest for their reviews! I'm hoping that the next chapter will be finished soon. Until then! -L-


	14. The Question

_**The following chapter is 99% smut, because so many of you were dismayed by Mrs. Weasley's interruption…and because I got a little carried away writing a sex scene that was only supposed to be a paragraph or two *clears throat*. I apologize for the delay. Life has been very demanding lately, but I've already started the next chapter, so it shouldn't be long. __**Also, I would like to thank foxygirl98, vernieklein, schwartzshifter, achillesthegeek, and cleverblueeagle for their chapter 13 reviews! You guys ROCK! **__Anyway, without further ado, I present: The activities of Draco and Harry later that night (major major NC17) like, seriously. This entire chapter is sex. Am I even allowed to do that? I really don't think so. Well, here's hoping I don't get kicked off of this site. Enjoy it while you can! _

_-Also, Harry's inner alpha/top makes a little appearance here. I'm more of a Draco on top fan, and I think that he may end up preferring a more dominant role in this story, but I had a lot of fun with this. What do you think?-_

"Draco, it's me," Harry whispered as he opened the door, peering into the blackness. "Are you asleep?"

He was met with a moment of silence followed by a low chuckle from the other side of the room.

"Hardly," came the drawl that made Harry both grin and shiver simultaneously.

"Too bad," he murmured, his heart skipping a beat, "I can think of a few ways I would have liked to wake you up…"

With a tantalizing little groan from Draco in response, Harry crossed the room in a few bounds until he was close enough to see the other boy, or at least his silhouette, sprawled invitingly across the large bed. Although it was quite dark and the thin cotton sheet was drawn up to his waist, Harry was fairly certain that Draco was already naked, and he felt himself instantly harden at the thought of it.

"Mind if I…join you?" he asked, surprised by the huskiness in his voice, and Draco propped himself up on his elbows.

"Get over here, you prat," he teased, and Harry immediately crawled onto the mattress, not needing to be told twice.

Without another word exchanged between them, Draco grabbed Harry by the shoulders, toppling him to his side, and the two boys melted into each other, lips finding lips in the shadows. Harry's mouth smoothed into soft, responding pressure as Draco continued the kiss, and his hands slid down of their own accord to grip Draco's hips, pulling the other boy close until their bodies aligned.

With his thumb and forefinger, Harry played with the soft fabric of the sheet, pulling down ever-so-slightly to reveal just enough skin to confirm that Draco was, indeed, naked. Breaking the kiss to look between them, he shivered again, feeling his abdomen coil with lust.

"God, Draco," he murmured, licking his lips, "ready and waiting, hmm?"

Draco arched his back a little in response, the sheet slipping down to his thighs as he did, and Harry, whose eyes were adjusting to the darkness, was rewarded with the sight of Draco's cock, so hard that it was straining up toward his stomach.

Growling almost primitively, Harry wrapped his hand around it, delighting in Draco's wild gasp as he did. His mouth found Draco's again as he stroked, and this time, the kiss was much more desperate in nature, almost painful, and he couldn't seem to stop himself was biting down on Draco's bottom lip hard enough to elicit a sharp inhale from the other boy followed by a barely audible whimper. The reaction only made Harry harder, and he hissed through his teeth, his other hand sliding from the back of Draco's neck to his throat, where he splayed his fingers across the sensitive skin possessively.

He was pleasantly surprised to see Draco lift his chin and press the back of his head to the pillow, displaying his throat even more as Harry caressed it. Something about this small act nearly drove Harry over the edge, and he moaned, swinging one leg over Draco's lap to straddle him.

"Fuck, Harry-…I…jesus," Draco was babbling incoherently as Harry pressed into him, his pajama pants now an inexcusable barrier that must be eliminated as quickly as possible.

"Wait. Stay. _Right. _Here," Harry whispered, breaking up the sentence with a lick to Draco's chest after each word. "Don't you dare move."

Rolling over onto his back next to Draco, he pulled down his pants, kicking them off, but before he could roll back, Draco was on top of him.

Groaning as Draco's cock pressed against his own, Harry instinctively grabbed Draco's hips again, pulling down hard. "I thought I told you to stay put," he chided between gasps, looking up at Draco with a hungry smirk.

Draco grinned and slid his hands up Harry's abdomen, pausing to rub little circles around Harry's nipples before pinching them roughly.

"I'm not very good at following orders these days," he murmured as Harry arched his back, sucking in a breath through his teeth. "Besides, I don't think you're going to be complaining…"

Before Harry could form a coherent reply, Draco leaned down to lick one of his nipples, gently nipping at the sensitive skin and causing a shock of arousal to flood Harry's stomach.

"Fuck," he moaned, his fingers tightening around Draco's waist. "Fuck, Draco…wait. Wait."

Surprised, Draco raised his head, giving Harry a questioning glance.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice, and Harry raised himself to his elbows.

"Mmmm, yes, I just wanted to-" with a quick maneuver, he had flipped them again, one knee on either side of Draco's thighs and his hands on Draco's shoulders, holding him in place. "Do that," he finished breathlessly, leaning down to capture Draco's mouth before the other boy could form much of a thought about the sudden power shift.

He knew that Draco was more dominant by nature, but that was what thrilled him…what egged him on. How far could he push the boundaries? He needed to know.

Breaking the kiss, he sat up, gazing down at the boy struggling beneath him. Harry's eyes roamed all over him, his claw clenched and his breath uneven.

"My god," he said, half to himself. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Without waiting for a response, he rubbed the heel of his hand down Draco's straining cock, stifling any words that the other boy might have been about to say.

"Mmm, and you're so…wet," he continued, bringing his hand to his mouth to lick a stripe down his palm, groaning at the sweet, salty taste.

After an extended moment, he looked down again, and his breath caught in his throat. Draco was watching him, mouth half open and eyes heavily lidded with lust. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his chest was rising and falling as though he had just run a marathon. It was the single most erotic sight Harry could have ever imagined, and he felt his cock twitch in anticipation.

"Harry, you win," Draco panted, his eyes drifting down to Harry's cock. "Fuck me. I need it. I need you."

He pushed his hips forward like he couldn't help it, throwing one arm up to grab the top of the bedframe and letting the other hand fall to clutch the sheet, knuckles white with the effort.

He was giving Harry permission to do whatever he wanted.

Oh, god.

Whatever he wanted…

He shuddered, willing himself not to come on the spot. He squeezed his cock at the base to relieve some of the pressure, sliding down Draco's body until he was between the other boy's legs.

He had to taste some more. He had to.

Bending his head, he sucked Draco's cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue to catch every trace of flavor. Draco made a sound like a wounded animal and bucked into Harry's throat, completely filling him. Nothing had ever felt so right. The taste was…god, it was indescribable, strange and delicious, something Harry felt he would quickly become addicted to.

After only a few thrusts however, Draco was clawing at Harry's head and moaning.

"Harry, pull off," he gasped. "You're going to make me-ahhhh-you're going to make me come."

Harry pulled off for a moment, looking up at Draco.

"That _is _the general idea," he said, licking his lips. "I want you to come in my mouth, Draco. I've never wanted anything so much in my life."

"I-but…have you ever…" Draco broke off as Harry ducked down again, swallowing Draco to the hilt.

"Oh God, Harry, oh Jesus _Christ_-"

Draco was _gone, _grabbing Harry by the hair and lunging into his mouth over and over again with increasingly ragged movements. With one last thrust, Draco's hips froze in Harry's hands and Harry felt hot come spill into his throat like pure heaven. Swallowing it hungrily, he lapped at Draco's cock, not wanting to miss a single drop, until Draco gently pulled back, his now sensitized skin needing a reprieve.

"Harry, you…that was…god, that was amazing," Draco was whispering as he collapsed onto the mattress, panting heavily.

"Yeah, it really was," Harry said with a grin, absentmindedly reaching down to rub his own still-very-hard cock.

Draco's eyes followed Harry's hand, and he smiled, rolling over and groping for something on the bedside table for a minute.

Harry watched curiously.

"What have you got there?" he asked, peering into the shadows.

"Harry, come here," Draco said, rolling back again, and Harry could see now that he was holding his wand.

"Draco, wha-"

"Just come here," Draco said again, cutting him off.

Harry crawled forward on the mattress, and Draco lay back, spreading his knees invitingly. Pointing his wand into his hand, he muttered something, and, to Harry's surprise, a gel-like liquid began to drip from its tip onto Draco's fingers. _So he had been right about last time. _Mesmerized, he watched Draco slip his hand between his legs and begin rubbing himself in that special place…the place Harry so desperately wanted to know.

"Fuck, Draco," he groaned, squeezing his cock again, and Draco smiled dreamily.

"That _is _the general idea," he murmured, mimicking Harry's words from just minutes ago.

"Are you…sure?" Harry asked, hoping desperately that the answer would be yes, "I mean, you just…"

He trailed off as Draco pushed a finger inside, slowly fucking himself with it, and Harry nearly collapsed, immediately reassigning the title of the most erotic thing he could have ever imagined to _this _scene that was unfolding before him.

"Mmm, yes, I'm _very _sure," Draco responded, his voice dripping with sex, and Harry nearly fell over himself getting closer.

Draco now had two fingers inside, and he was making these noises…these perfect, sexy little noises as he thrust them in and out.

Harry couldn't help himself. He started stroking his cock to the same rhythm that Draco was using, already breathless again, _needing _this like he had never needed anything before.

"Draco-" he choked out, and as if the other boy could read his mind, Draco pulled out and grabbed his wand again.

"Let me," he whispered, filling his hand again with the gel and reaching forward to slick Harry's cock.

The sensation of Draco's hand on him alone nearly did him in, and Harry threw his head back a little, desperately dragging some self-control out of the depths of his sex-muddled mind. Draco's fingers slid up and down the length of his shaft, and after a minute, Harry felt Draco's other hand on his hip, guiding him forward.

"I'm ready, Harry. Do it," Draco said, lying back and spreading his legs even further apart.

Harry took a deep shaky breath and positioned himself, pushing as gently as he could against Draco. _"Don't fuck this up,"_ he thought to himself. _"Control yourself."_

But Draco seemed to have other ideas.

Suddenly grabbing Harry's hips, he pulled. Hard. And Harry was in. All the way in.

Biting his lower lip to keep from howling, Harry arched his back, flooded with sensation. The heat…the tightness…he had never known that sex could be like this. God, he had never known.

Looking down at Draco, he saw that the other boy's face was twisted into an expression of something between pain and pleasure, and Harry reached for him, softly caressing his cheek.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, resisting the urge to move.

Draco managed to smile and put his hand on top of Harry's, turning it over to draw slow circles in Harry's palm with his thumb.

"Yeah," he whispered, thrusting his hips forward. "Yeah. I'm okay. I'm more than okay."

Draco's small movement caused Harry's self-control to instantly evaporate, and he moaned, pulling out a little only to push back in roughly, causing Draco to cry out into his arm. Unable to stop himself, he began to thrust in earnest, plunging into Draco as if his life depended on it. Instinct had taken over, and Harry could barely even remember where they were, let alone that he was supposed to be taking this slow.

But Draco didn't seem to mind, now. Harry glanced down to see that Draco's face was now awash with pure pleasure again, his head thrown back and his nails digging into the sheets wildly.

"Christ, Harry, _fuck, _yesss," he cried out, bucking up frantically, and this movement caused Harry to slip in even deeper.

"God," he groaned, knowing that he wasn't going to last. "So good, Draco, so fucking good."

He saw that Draco was hard again, painfully hard it looked like, and he reached between them to grab Draco's cock, stroking it almost brutally.

Leaning down, he began to lick and bite Draco's skin as he fucked him, still jacking his cock with one hand. His mouth was everywhere at once – throat, shoulder blade, chest, and he felt the familiar tightening in his stomach as he neared the edge.

He moved a little bit to the left, changing his angle, and without warning, Draco exploded into his hand, every muscle in his body seizing up as he came.

Harry felt the clench around his cock, and he was gone, coming harder than he even knew was possible, his nails digging into Draco's skin and his face twisted into a silent scream of pleasure. It seemed to go on forever and yet not long enough all at the same time, and when it was over, Harry could no longer support his own weight, falling onto Draco's chest with a sigh.

For a while, neither of them said anything. They just lay together, breathing heavily and bathing in the afterglow of what they had just shared.

Then, after what might have been five minutes or an hour, Harry slowly pulled out, collapsing next to Draco and smiling at him through the shadows.

"Mind if I sleep here tonight?" he asked, reaching out to run his fingers lightly across Draco's collarbone. "I don't really think my legs work at the moment."

Draco chuckled and pulled Harry closer.

"Let's hope we wake up before everyone else does, though," he said, giving Harry a little kiss. "I don't think I fancy being subjected to the wrath of Mrs. Weasley."

Harry nodded, his eyes already half-closed.

"Me neither," he whispered. "Don't worry. We'll…we'll be up…in time."

He felt himself drifting into a deep, satisfying sleep.

He was almost completely gone when he felt Draco lightly touch his shoulder.

"Harry?" he whispered. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mmm?" Harry murmured, not even opening his eyes.

"If we ever…_when _we get out of this, when we're away from all of this…will you…will you marry me?"


End file.
